


Bright as the Night Sky

by highladyofthenightcourt5



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-17 11:05:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 24,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11274156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highladyofthenightcourt5/pseuds/highladyofthenightcourt5
Summary: Feyre is busy trying to think of a creative gift for her 100th anniversary with Rhysand, and for once the inner circle is out of ideas. It’s only until Rhysand and her are invited to witness a rare performance by the people of Velaris that she finds her muse. But what will remain to celebrate once she discovers a dark secret.The setting takes place WAY after ACOWAR and gives insight into the life of the inner circle and Feyre’s sisters, as well as the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. It does stem from my first fan fiction Safe at Last but is not necessary to read to understand.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow me on tumblr @highladyofthenightcourt5 and find this piece and others as well.

The warm Velaris sun casts a gentle glow onto my pale skin as I recline on a patio seat on one of the many balconies of the House of Wind with Mor. The soft murmurings of the wind echoing through our ears and winding nimble fingers through our hair.

Rhys had wanted a quick meeting with his spymaster and left Mor and I to our own devices, which we were more than happy to oblige, with Mor yanking me towards the elevated balconies over looking the city in the hopes of getting a tan.

I emit a content sigh as I arc underneath the pleasant heat of the unusual weather, not missing the chilly Night Court mornings. Mor, on the other hand, is busy rubbing tanning oil over her already tan skin.

A few more seconds of silence and Mor mutters a quiet curse as she tosses the bottle over the balcony and down the steep slope of the mountain side. I roll my eyes at the gesture and turn towards her scowling form.

“Cauldron boil that sleazy merchant!” She rants as she swipes at the useless oil that had no effect on her immortal skin.

“I think you should be glad, you’ve been cooking under the sun for a good five hours by now.” I giggle as Mor glares distastefully at her light skin.

“I guess I should be glad that Azriel adores his pretty little pale wife.” She bats her eyelashes, hands clasped in front of her in a mock gesture.

“That’s an understatement.” I retort as I resettle into my chair again. “And how is that going? You know—you and Azriel?” I ask.

Mor sighs and also reclines into her chair. “Well we just had our 56th anniversary a few months ago—and you know how that went—and I tried to broach the subject again but he just shut down.”

My mind reels back to the eventful day, Mor, as usual, beaming with joy at her husband as she whisked him away to wherever they would go to celebrate their marriage but only returning a few days later with tear streaks down her face as she wept in my arms. At the time she thought she was pregnant and decided to tell her mate the night of their anniversary but he had only jumped into the night sky.

As much as Mor was devastated by her mate’s reaction to her pregnancy, it wasn’t as bad as the day that she bled and realized that in fact she was not. She had been inconsolable for weeks until Azriel and her finally spoke about it. But when she had asked him if he wanted a child, he had said he didn’t and ever since then Mor has been trying to convince Azriel otherwise.

“And he hasn’t told you why?” I question, as I try to understand the quiet shadowsinger.

“Nothing substantial. He just seems to beat around the subject which always ends up with me cornering him and him just shutting down.” She remains silent as she gazes solemnly onto our city. “I just can’t understand why he wouldn’t want a child. It’s been 56 years and I _finally_ feel like I can give him everything that he never had—a family to care and love for—and he doesn’t seem to care! As if a child would only be an obstacle…” Mor drifts off as a single tear strolls down the elegant planes of her face.

I reach out and brush away that rogue tear, gripping her chin in the process to make her face me. “Mor…I, more than anyone, know how much Azriel loves you. He would do anything for you. Just how you would do anything for him. And I know how much your hurting about this child…but maybe he’s also hurting…in that quiet way of his and perhaps there’s a deeper meaning behind his rejection. I _know_ it has nothing to do with you…I feel like this might have to do with him and perhaps he needs a little more time.” I counsel, staring firmly into those brown eyes.

She nods softly and wipes her eyes. “You’re right Feyre…although I don’t know how after 56 years he needs more time.” She grumbles smiling wanly. “But enough about me…I want to snoop into my High Lady’s affairs.” She answers mischievously as she props her face onto her hand, waiting for me to dish out the daily drama.

I roll my eyes and pull my knees up to my chest, the soft Night Court fabric bunching up around my thighs. “Well…my 100th anniversary to Rhys is coming up and I have no idea what to get him.” I admit, rubbing my neck in frustration.

“Shit you’re right! I almost forgot…I have the most delicious surprise for the both of you.” Mor’s lips pull into a villainous smirk as she rubs her hands together. I press the heels of my palms into my eyes as I groan.

“Please no more of your _delicious_ surprises.” I plead. The last one had me sorting through an entire store of lingerie for a year after _literally_ buying me a lingerie store. On the bright side, I maintained my High Lord _thoroughly_ entertained.

“Oh you’ll like this one! I promise!” She adds a suggestive wink, which allows me to think otherwise.

“ _Anyway_ …after a hundred years I have honestly come up with nothing. I mean I want this anniversary to be special but what _haven’t_ we done already?” I groan in frustration again. “Immortality can be so complicated at times.”

“I’m practically 600 hundred years old and you’re complaining?” Mor teases as she pokes my ribs. I swat her hand away with a smile as I peer over my shoulder to make sure a certain High Lord wasn’t eavesdropping.

“What about Elain? She’s had some _sinful_ ideas, perhaps she can lend you another one.” Mor suggests as she picks at her nails.

“I would but the last I spoke with her she was just settling in with Lucien at the Autumn Court and she’s been so busy growing accustomed to her new lifestyle as a High Lord’s wife that I don’t want to distract her.”

Mor skewers her mouth to the side in concentration, hands fiddling with the long strands of her golden hair. “I’m not exactly sure—“ I sigh “but I _will_ think of something just give me time.”

She doesn’t get to say more before Azriel and Rhysand step onto the balcony, brows raised at their mates lounging in the sun. Azriel’s siphons gleam against the harsh rays, soft waves of shadows rolling off him. My gaze quickly latches onto my High Lord, dressed in his usual finery, his darkness wilder than Azriel’s with delicate tendrils snaking the cobbled ground and pooling around my feet.

Azriel’s eyes avert from me and land on his beaming wife, who is unwilling to show how much his rejection has affected her. “Time to go Mor.” He gives her his arm which she latches onto and gives me faint smile—the only sign of her discomfort with the space between her and her husband—and winnows back to their townhouse.

Rhysand takes Mor’s place in the chair besides me and beckons for me to come join him with a crook of his finger. In seconds I’m in his lap, arms wrapped around his neck as he nuzzles his face into my neck, hands gripping the sheer silk fabric that I have draped over my shoulders.

“Am I allowed to know what you and Mor are scheming about?” He asks just as I place my mental shields against his nosy mind. He growls in response and presses a soft kiss to my lips. “Should I be worried then?” He jests as he gazes into my eyes, those violet orbs my undoing.

“Not at all.” I tease as he winnows us into our townhouse bedroom.

* * *

“Where are we going?” I ask as I pull a towel around my body, still humid from our shower as Rhysand pulls out one of his finest Night Court attire involving a loose shirt made of midnight silk and smooth, pressed-to-perfection trousers.

He quirks an eyebrow in my direction. “We, Feyre, have been invited to a special performance in Velaris.”

“What special performance?” I inquire as Nuala and Cerridwen subtly slip into our room, heads bowed in respect.

“You’ll see…” Is the only answer I receive from my mate before he disappears in a fog of smoke and leaves the wraiths in charge of my outfit for the night.

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

Standing in the center of the foyer at the House of Wind, I twirl to catch the beautiful dress Cerridwen and Nuala helped pick out for the night.

The long elegant gown was fashioned out of silk so spectacularly spun that it appeared as if the constellations were imprinted across my body. The thin sleeves merely for decoration as they enhance the dark Illyrian swirls of my bond to Rhysand and our Court.

Nuala had woven the elegant diadem into the folds of my plaits at the base of my head, as Cerridwen judged from a distance, those gray eyes calculating every fiber of the dress. Satisfied, both had taken their leave and I had taken a few seconds to gaze at myself in the mirror before winnowing towards the House of Wind where my inner circle was waiting.

Becoming High Lady had always seemed so tactical. As if I would always be dealing with matters of military strategy, yet as of late it has involved more diplomacy, fancy attires, frequent parties and celebrations.  

But in the midst of all my duties, I had never thought that it would include stunning outfits. I had confronted Rhys about this early in my role and he had explained to me that as the first High Lady of Prythian I would have to set the standard. Which also meant; I could make the rules.

“Ready?” Rhys asks as he waits for me by the door, adjusting one of his cuff links. He stops as he eyes the dress. Its slim fit over my torso, and it’s smooth fall from my wide hips accentuating my feminine curves. The open neckline revealing my shoulders and the tips of my shoulder blades as it dips down my spine and rests on my lower back.

“You like it?” I ask as I take his outstretched hand.

“You already know the answer to that Feyre darling.” He responds as he pulls me close to place a proprietary kiss on my neck, his canines subtly caressing the sensitive flesh.

“Can we please refrain from inappropriate public affection.” Mor quips as she strides down the elegant stairs, her gorgeous blood red gown clinging to her sumptuous body like a second skin, the long sleeves clamping around her delicate wrists in golden cuffs, and the plunging neckline leaving space for the massive necklace of rubies hanging from her neck.

“I’m afraid I will have to remind you about the same thing cousin once Azriel catches sight of you.” Rhysand retorts, his lips pulling into a wicked smirk as the shadowsinger steps out from an adjoining room and goes still as death at the sight of his mate.

For once, Mor actually looks _bashfu_ l, her usually strong gaze wavering in front of her mate as she clamps her hands in front of her. Her tongue nervously swiping her dark bottom lip as she waits for his reaction.

The shadowsinger’s normally brooding gaze grows ravenous at the sight of the woman before him and I had to avert my eyes at the intimacy of that gaze which I’m sure left Mor feeling bare. Rhysand’s hands tighten around my waist as he looks between his spymaster and third in command.

“Feyre and I can go on our own if you two have other plans.” He offers and Mor can hardly swallow as Azriel bridges the space between them and says to no one in particular.

“Yes…I think we will stay.”

* * *

On other occasions Rhys and I would just winnow to the party but the night was so cool and fresh and with all of Velaris’ citizens jamming the streets in the hopes of catching the rare performance, we preferred to mingle with the crowd.

We strode down the streets of our beloved city, arms linked through the other, the picture of royal sophistication and propriety. A total contrast to Rhysand’s firm squeeze on my backside when we had been exiting the House of Wind, leaving me to bat his hand away and not-so-subtly pinch his ass as we reached the base of the steps.

He had only swiveled to face me as he held my traitorous hand, eyes lit up with carnal fire as he had brought my palm to his lips. Kissing every single finger, his eyes never leaving me as he pulled my index finger into his mouth and his tongue sensually brushed my skin.

I had hastily pulled my finger from his mouth before the entire city of Velaris caught their High Lady erupting into a sphere of heat. Rhysand had only chuckled darkly before grabbing that same hand in a firm grip.

Now in the midst of my people, I watch with rapturous delight as they wave and throw flowers onto us, a few even asking for a handshake which we gladly give. Many little girls prance around us in dark dresses very similar to mine with miniature tiaras positioned on their heads.

Rhysand is beaming, those beautiful eyes filled with light at the sight of our people safe and joyful. I squeeze his hand and a tear nearly slips from my eye at the adoration in his gaze.

_There was a time when I didn’t think I could get this ending._

I pull my lips into soft smile as I reach up and entangle my fingers into the back of his head guiding his face towards mine until my lips brush the contours of that sinful mouth and I whisper down the bond;

_And yet here you are._

* * *

 


	3. Chapter 3

We arrive at the amphitheater, a young faerie guiding us to our reserved seats at the front of the performing area. Faelights bob around the room as they light guests to their seats, the air warm with the expectant breaths of the crowd. I settle down in the throne placed besides my mate’s and gaze curiously at the empty stage before us.

 _Will you finally explain to me what is going on?_ I murmur down the bond.

 _That would ruin the surprise._ He teases as his teeth gently scrape the lobe of my ear.

I suppress a shudder of pleasure and open my eyes just in time to watch the faelights quietly wink out and their soft hues concentrate on the stage before us. Where a young couple strides out from a curtained section, the woman clad in only a gauzy material covering her breasts and narrowing down to the intricate jewel in the center of her stomach before widening again into a thin skirt revealing the long, tan contours of her legs. Her face hidden by a silk fabric hanging beneath a set of dark brown eyes. Her long dark hair is braided down her back and brushes her waist as she strides to the front of the stage, her hand clasped in a male’s as he guides her towards us, their steps slow and graceful.

The only sound is the swish of her skirt as she bows before us, the male beside her doing the same in his Night Court attire of dark silk trousers and a thin shirt covering the vast expanse of his muscular, tan chest.

Rhysand motions for them to stand, his lips lifting into a quiet smile as they return to the center of the room. The female heading in the opposite direction of the male with both stopping an equal distance away.

The woman raises her arms in the air, her head tilted back as the music slowly rises, a mixture of the soft strings of a guitar, the gentle caress of the drums. As if pulled by the same string her body reacts, with one hip lifting with the swells of the melody, her hands raised above her and slowly twirling with the notes of the music. With each graceful lift of her hip and arc of her back she prowls towards the male, his eyes fixated on her lithe figure.

When she finally reaches him, those dark eyes plunge into his very being before slowly pulling at the silk fabric covering his chest until he’s bare from the waist up. As if on impulse he reaches for her and she dances out of his perimeter and begins to circle him, strong legs propelling her towards him before pulling her back a safe distance from his caging arms.

As she continues to wow the crowd with her acrobatic abilities and her stunning flexibility, I notice something shimmering in the air. As the woman lies on her stomach and methodically raises her legs in an angle behind her before pulling her back over her until her legs are over her head and and she raises herself to her full height there’s a snap. A bright, ethereal, blue light manifests itself from the woman’s abdomen and slowly snakes its way towards the male before snapping into place. That is when I realize that this man is her mate;

And they have just summoned the mating bond.

* * *

It was real, it was a physical thing and I turn towards Rhys, pure shock plastered on my face and his lips only break out into an amused smile as he brings our joined hands to his lips.

 _What is this?_ I ask even though I already know the answer.

 _It’s a mating dance._ He answers simply. _It’s a rare performance since it is an extremely private affair, very few couples wish to expose that to the world._

_That’s why she covered her face?_

_Thanks in part to our territorial nature, the male probably preferred to have his mate’s identity secret since she is dancing before his High Lord in only a scrap of silk._ Before I can think of anything else to say my eyes snatch back onto the arena where the couple is slowly closing in.

Despite her mate’s constant efforts to cage her in his arms the female continues to evade him, taking the bond with her and oh-so-coyly wrapping the glowing cord around her finger and sensually dancing in its midst until her body is encircled by the bond. Those dark eyes never leaving him.

It is only as the music heightens does she prowl towards him. Every step territorial and demanding until they are standing a few yards away with only the mating bond connecting them. As if sensing the delay, the bond sends a blast of light down its cord and the couple emits a soft gasp as the sensation overwhelms them.

With all sense of his self-control shattered the male grabs the bond with both hands and hauls his mate towards him, every pull a sensual tug reeking of possession. As the woman is guided towards him, the bond commences to grow brighter and shorter, every step causing their veins to glow with the same light blue of the bond until there is hardly a hairsbreadth of distance between them and the harsh rays of the bond are nearly blinding.

But the dance is not over.

With a final tug the female falls against the male’s chest who emits a chastising growl at her evasiveness. She responds by pressing her hands against the flesh of his chest and extending a long leg up over his shoulder. The male responds almost immediately, one hand leaving her waist to catch her foot as if there was indeed no space between their souls.

And as the female removes her hands from his chest, she leaves their mark in the pure azure of the mating bond, effectively branding him as hers and her dark eyes rise to challenge his gaze. In a smooth motion the male has her wrapped around his waist and his canines buried in the soft flesh between her neck and shoulder, her quiet moan hushed out by the collective gasp of the audience.

Never in my 100 years of existence had I ever witnessed such a passionate display, where love, lust, faith, and trust were all so mixed together as to bring forth the actual force of their attraction. The hairs on my arms rise as the air grows charged with the bond, their skin nearly opalescent as the bond charges through their veins, their very being, on the verge of converging their entire souls into each other.

I turn to observe Rhy’s reaction, his eyes pinned on the stage below us, muscles tense as he ever-so-slightly leans forward. I return my gaze towards the arena where the pair are still interlocked in each other’s embrace, their bond threatening to physically consume them before the room is washed in darkness;

And it is not from my mate.

Where the mates had been only seconds before in an array of light, there is nothing now but darkness as the faelights struggle to light the stadium and all the confused onlookers. I swivel towards Rhys, mouth agape as I scan the stage, wondering where they had vanished to.

 _Are they…_ gone _?_ I whisper against his mind, my heart hammering in my chest as I imagine their ashes floating in the wind of the amphitheater.

 _No._ A soft chuckle as Rhysand grabs my cold hands and warms them with his, his thumb gently rubbing the back of hand. _They only winnowed towards a more…private location._

 _Why would they do that?_ I ask rather naively and Rhysand only gives me a look and understanding dawns on me. I manage to look sheepish before he tugs me to follow him as he guides me through the rows of seats in the amphitheater and towards the open streets of Velaris.

It was on our way home that our gazes snagged onto the quick burst of sapphire light in the far distance across the sea.

* * *

 


	4. Chapter 4

“Is it normal to…emit that light.” I inquire as Rhy’s quick finger’s undo the buttons down the back of my gown.

“During the mating dance, the bond becomes a tangible thing, it is now physically a part of them and as such it begins to take over their very beings, threatening to converge their souls if they don’t find a way to release it quickly.”

“And how do they release it?” I continue as I step out of my gown and hang it in my closet, Rhy’s doing the same with his clothes.

In response my mate prowls towards my side of the room and moves up behind me, his fingers finding my slim waist and his hard length pressing against my back. _Understand now?_ He teases as he presses hot kisses down my neck. My only response is a soft sigh and he moves away, his violet eyes scanning the length of my form, taking in with great consideration the black slip of fabric across my breasts.

 _You look delicious Feyre._ He whispers hungrily on the other side of my mind.

 _Not as delicious as that woman performing today._ I retort, knowing full well how his attention had been snagged on the stage. No wonder the male was desperate to have her in his arms, the longer she danced, the longer she entertained my High Lord. Yet it was understandable, she was beautiful and graceful and strong in a feminine way, her body muscular yet soft in all the right places. She could entertain her mate for decades with that same routine.

 _“Stop that!”_ He growls and stalks forward, wrapping an arm around my waist and bringing our bodies flush as he allows his warm breath to fan over the curve of my neck. “ _Never_ say that in my presence. I never want to hear you repeat those vile things in your entire existence, because deep inside you know that my love for you is eternal and there is not a woman nor beast out there that could change the way I will _always_ feel about you.” His snarl sends shivers down my back and I nod ashamedly.

He was right. It had been petty to have even considered the thought. Never in my one hundred years with Rhys did I ever have cause or reason to question his unwavering loyalty towards me. He has always been caring, tender, and kind, has never once sidelined me or made me feel inferior.

“I’m sorry.” I mumble feeling pretty stupid.

“You’re not stupid love.” He whispers onto my skin, his breath caressing my senses. “Just a bit delusional at times.” He teases and I smack his arm as he nuzzles his nose against mine, his eyes pouring into mine. “But perhaps a little dance wouldn’t hurt anybody.” He admits and a sinful smirk blossoms across his lips.

“Of course.” I reply, my voice suddenly dripping with honey. “Perhaps I shall give Velaris a performance of my own.” Rhysand’s answering tug on my waist brings a smile to my lips at my territorial mate.

“And did my High Lady not consider the possibility of prying eyes from any wandering male?” He murmurs, leaving a trail of hot kisses that leave a pool of heat between my legs.

“I can assure you High Lord that no male would dare gaze upon his queen, knowing full well the warning of their king.” I tilt my head back as he sucks on the soft flesh below my jaw. “Besides…the only man’s eyes I want are yours.” I murmur as he hoists me up and allows me to wrap my legs around his torso. Backing up, so that my back is pressed to the wall.

“And why is that?” He teases, knowing full well the answer.

“Because your an insufferable prick.” I breath as he plunges a broad hand down the front of my bra and I suck in a breath at those glorious calloused fingers.

“Is that so Feyre darling?” He taunts as one hand cups my upper thigh, his thumb running circles in my inner thigh. “Is that any way to treat your High Lord?”

“Yes. When he is being an egotistical bastard.” He only chuckles, pulling his hands from my breast and placing numerous kisses across my lips, down the slope of my nose.

“That’s the Feyre I love and adore.”

“See it’s not hard to get compliments from your spouse.” I tease as I press my lips to his, relishing the contact of his skin, the masculinity in his scent and his hard, muscled chest. 

I can feel my arousal heightening as I deepen the kiss, missing his sole, undivided attention. Gods even after a hundred years, I am still intoxicated with his familiar scent of smoke and citrus, the press of those tender lips, the strong grip of his hands. I moan as he presses against my stomach, clearly understanding my intentions.

“Are you going to take the day off tomorrow?” I whisper, excited to finally have a day with my husband after two weeks.

“Afraid not.” He responds as he drags a luscious lip across my own, nibbling at my mouth as his eyes latch onto mine. I can feel the heat exploding at the pit of my stomach with the intensity of his gaze, as if stripping me naked from the inside out.

“Why not?” I breathe as his head dips to nip at my collarbone, hands roaming the expanse of my back.

“I have business to attend to at the Hewn City tomorrow. Keir has been bringing up some trouble as of late.” He mumbles against my skin, tongue soothing the red marks left by his teeth.

“Will it take you long?” His eyes flicker up to mine and a tentative smile overtakes his features.

“Are you admitting that you’ll miss me?”

“The territorial High Lord? No. But my mate and friend? Yes.” I confess and he grins as he takes my mouth and makes up for our loss of time.

* * *

Lounging on my throne in the Court of Nightmares I glare unflinchingly at Kier, the troublesome steward as usual trying my limited patience. I angle my head to crack my stiff neck, the gesture purely animalistic as I continue to stare down the High Fae.

“You see High Lord I was _promised_ access to the City of Velaris if I offered you my Darkbringers during the war. I have kept my word, now it is up to my _High Lord_ to keep his.” He is unusually testy today, perhaps because he has been shunned out of so many beds for the last years—including his own.

I purse my lips and allow a feline smirk to grace my features. “I am aware of the bargain we struck Kier—“ A flash of teeth as he begins to smile. “However I never mentioned when.” I allow the simple statement to sink in as I pop a grape into my mouth. In moments the Steward’s face grows livid as he snarls in my direction.

“You—“ But his words die out as Azriel wraps a muscular arm around the High Fae’s throat, teeth bared and snarling into the male’s ear.

“Don’t you dare speak to my High Lord in such a manner or I will strew your guts onto the throne room floor. Understood?” Kier flashes me an angry glare but nods slightly. Azriel catches my eye from behind him and I give him a subtle nod.

He drags Kier across the throne room, the latter thrashing and screaming for justice as he is led to a downstairs dungeon until I can decide with what to do with him. For too many centuries have I dealt with the hateful bastard and now that everyone has uncovered my ruse it’s about time I figure out a way to subdue the beasts roaming the Court of Nightmares.

I run my hands over my furrowed brow, glancing at the empty throne beside me and wishing I had asked Feyre to join me, if only to have someone to lean on as the world seems to crash around my shoulders. My underground court has been growing restless and the last thing I wanted was Feyre worrying over something else. She has enough on her plate with diplomacy between all seven of the courts of Prythian along with the hotheaded bastard Tamlin still stuck in the mix.

I release a strenuous sigh and allow my lips to pull up into a smile as I remember her sleeping form in our bed. The massive tangle of golden hair splayed across our pillows, her rosy lips slightly parted as I achingly pulled the soft blanket up to her chin, hoping she wouldn’t notice my absence.

We had gone slow last night. _Very_ slow. Our bodies glowing with the slow rush of heat in our veins, soft hands caressing each other’s figure until a soft gasp passed our lips as we made love. Our movements languid and gentle, the only sound the pace of our hearts and the sigh of our breaths as we each found our pleasure in each other’s bodies.

Even after, I had stayed awake. Aware that the longer I remained gazing on my sleeping mate, the harder the mask would be to wear the next day. But I had no choice. Was there ever a choice with Feyre? Was there ever going to be a day where she wouldn’t dazzle me with a simple smile or take my breath away with one swipe of her blade? She is a creature of folklore and there will not be a day where I will cease to gaze upon her without pure adoration and loyalty. For even in my darkest nights, she had managed to bring in the light and for that I would be forever grateful.

So against my better judgement, I remained the whole night observing the beautiful female resting by my side and had yet to regret the decision.

* * *

 


	5. Chapter 5

“Mor that’s wonderful!” I breathe as I drag the bubbly female into my arms and squeeze her tightly. “I’m glad everything worked out.”

Mor releases a pent up laugh and wipes at her eyes, her face practically radiant in the light of the early morning rays. “I still can’t believe it myself. All this time I thought that maybe Azriel just—didn’t see me that way. Perhaps I was too flirtatious to be taken seriously or too rowdy to be a mother…” Mor gazes down at her hands in her lap and her lips pull into a wide grin. “But I’m glad that we talked about it.”

“Mor you don’t know how happy I am that everything worked out. I hated to see that distance between you two.” I reach out and grab one of her hands. “And I’m also glad that Azriel has let go one of his demons…that he doesn’t have to live with that unnecessary guilt.” Mor nods and wipes at her eye again, unable to stop the flow of joyful tears.

“I’m happy too Feyre.” She sniffles and wipes her nose, smiling bashfully at one of the store clerks who comes and hands her a tissue.

We were on our way to one of the lingerie stores in Velaris when Mor confided in me about last night with Azriel. How she had taken the moment to finally confront him on why he didn’t want a child with her.

“I just feel so stupid for not having realized it. I mean how could I not _see_ his pain? How did I not realize that he just felt… _unworthy_.” Mor spat out the word as if it were dirt on her tongue. “But then again…I _hate_ that he sees himself that way. As if one day I’ll grow tired of him and leave him just like that. He thinks he’s worthless Feyre!” Mor chokes on a sob. “Have I done anything to make him feel that way?” She breathes, her voice raw as if she’s been asking herself this question for a while.

“Of course not! For the last 56 years you have been nothing short of wonderful and I see it on his face _every_ day. This has nothing to do with you, but about his stupid notion that he is not worthy of you and your child. And now that you have finally established that, there’s nothing holding you back from being a happy family.” I cup her face, feeling tears sliding down my cheeks as well. “You two are going to be very happy together. And I don’t need Elain’s gift to know.” I joke and Mor lets out a giggle, pulling me into her arms for a tight hug.

“Thank you Feyre.” She whispers. “You have been a wonderful sister.”

* * *

After an hour long sister bonding time, Mor and I finally got to work on my 100th anniversary gift. And it involves a lot of silk.

“Mother above you’d think you were building a tent with all this lace!” Mor comments as I continue to pile bolt after bolt of fabric onto the drawing table, the clerks in the store perusing my sketch and offering advice on certain areas.

“I want to know my options.” I answer and quickly grab a pencil to sketch a new design offered by the attendant.

“Gods Feyre if you manage to pull this off, I just might make you Velaris’ anniversary planner.” She teases as she also goes through the store in the hopes of finding a lacy underthing with which to entertain her mate.

“I suggest High Lady to lower the bodice and thin out the skirt, this will make it easier to move around in.” Offers the attendant, her golden eyes flicking across the paper, brow furrowed in concentration as she continues to scrutinize the sketch.

“What does lowering the bodice have to do with mobility?” Asks Mor as she comes up with a few lacy numbers in tow.

“In case she messes up in the movement, it will give the High Lord something _else_ to focus on.” The elderly store clerk responds as she comes up behind the young attendant, her lips pulling into a sensual smirk. “That is why we are here—to make sure that no matter what happens you will always look _desirable_.

* * *

 


	6. Chapter 6

By the time I got home from my eventful day with Mor, I found to my dismay that the townhouse was empty—with Rhys probably still settling things back at the Hewn City. I was a little curious as to why Rhys hadn’t brought me along but I didn’t need to be a genius to know that he didn’t deem it very important, just the usual nonsense that he didn’t want me dealing with.

And in a way it worked out since I needed to make sure he wouldn’t be following me around while I arranged our anniversary. But as I stepped out of the humid shower, donned a soft night gown and climbed into our soft bed I found myself missing him—it didn’t help that a rare thunderstorm had blown in and rain was battering the windows with thunder cracking in the distance.

It was the kind of music nature would play for our primitive ancestors. A song about bonding and family. Of closure and comfort. I pull my knees up to my chest and gaze out the dark window, the only light—except for the occasional lightning—the few candles scattered around the room.

I heave a heavy sigh and press my cheek against my knees, and close my eyes. Listening to the gentle hum of the rain pattering against the window, the deep bass of the far off thunder and the brief flashes of light that penetrate my lids. For a moment, everything seems to just slow, as if nature has brought me into its fold and the hum of the rain is Rhys soft breaths while he sleeps, the booming thunder his low growls that keep me up at night and the howling wind the shifting of the sheets as he always finds a way to hold me in his embrace.

In the midst of this, I feel my lips pulling into a tender smile, my heart nearly brimming with joy at the life I’ve had—at the life we’ve had—that I fear that no trouble in the world could wipe the silly smile off my face.

But as always I am wrong.

The door to our bedroom swings open and a familiar scent envelopes the room and my smile grows even brighter as I shift to look at my mate but it quickly fades at his expression.

Those violet eyes are dim, shadows peeking underneath his eyes, wings drooping behind his shoulders, his midnight hair ruffled as if he’s run his hands through it during the day. Before he can even take a breath, I am in his arms, my body trying to physically impart on him the joy and love that I was experiencing only moments ago.

 _I love you and no matter what happens I will always love you. And even if you’re too tired to speak, I will love the silence._ I whisper down the bond and his strong arms come to wrap round my thin frame. His face pressing into the top of my head as he takes a deep breath.

 _Thank you._ He breathes and I take the time to peer up at his haggard expression before leading him towards our bathroom. Once inside I help him to peel off his armor, the rough leather rubbing against my fingers as I drop them the floor.The clang of his weapons the only sound as I get the bath ready, motioning with my hands for him to get in.

At first he’s hesitant, shaking his head. _I am not going to allow you to baby me woman. If I get in you do too._

That’s my cue to lean on one leg and place my hands on my hips, eyebrows raised as if questioning his sanity. _Are you going to deny a direct order from your High Lady?_ He huffs a laugh and shakes his head as he lowers himself into the bath, hissing at the warm water tending to his sore muscles.

 _I’m guessing you had to visit the Illyrian camp today?_ I motion towards the leather lying on the bathroom floor. He only nods and judging by his physical state, I’m assuming there was a brawl.

I reach over and grab bottles of hair tonics and bathing lotions and lay them on the counter as I begin my ministrations. Despite being utterly naked beneath me, he’s still formidably large, with my hands hardly half the length of his broad shoulders.

I gently rub tonics into the muscles of his shoulders and back, my hands slipping over his warm, tan skin and the Illyrian tattoos gracing his skin. He emits a low groan as my hands knead the incredibly strong muscles of his back.

 _If my memory serves me. You once did this for me._ He leans back and opens those dazzling eyes, his lips slowly pulling into a tentative smile. _I figured it was time to return the favor._ I muse. He closes his eyes again and releases a pent up sigh, his body loosening. I press a soft kiss to his temple and rub some of the hair tonic onto his jet black hair marveling at its silky smoothness. He purrs underneath me, sending the rumbling vibrations straight through my body as I massage his scalp.

With that done I attend to his general body, rubbing down his arms and kissing a path from his shoulder to his fingertips, tracing the rough callouses on his fingers. He’s eyeing me now and I press a soft kiss to the center of his palm, which curves around my face in response.

 _You are a blessing to me Feyre._ He whispers down the bond and I smile into his palm, feeling pretty close on the verge of tears.

_And you to me._

* * *

After his bath, I toweled him off and he climbed into bed, taking me down with him. His large hands running down the sides of my body as he presses kisses to every available surface. At times even pulling up and down my nightgown to get better access, eventually lifting it up to press a warm kiss to my belly.

A hope and a promise.

That one day we could share this love with the world.

He lifts me off of him and lays me down, brushing his body over me as he tends to the skin at my neck with his teeth and tongue, sending delicious shivers down my body. He heaves a sigh as he makes his way up, kissing my jaw, my cheeks, my nose, my eyes, my forehead and ending with a chaste kiss on my lips.

“I don’t know how many centuries it will take me to finally explain to you what you mean to me Feyre. There has not been a word invented for what I feel here—“ He grabs my hand and places it over his heart “And perhaps you will never know the depths of my devotion to you—but I would lay down my life and my court for you. _Anything_ to keep you safe, anything to make sure that you’re happy. My life is at the mercy of your hands and I have never been more grateful. Because _you_ Feyre are the reason for my existence. There is nothing left of me that I can give because since the day I asked you to marry me my life has been yours.” At this point there is nothing left for me to do but cry as my mate pours out his entire soul, laying himself bare before me and I’m a blubbering mess. “Shhh…don’t cry my love.” He murmurs as he kisses away every tear, his thumb stroking my cheeks as he continues to murmur these torturous things.

“I wish I could be as eloquent.” I breathe, my voice still stuck from my crying. “I wish I could paint what is in my heart but there are no colors to describe it, no painter who could capture it in its entirety. But Rhys believe me when I tell you that I love you and I always will even when we cease to exist and the stars are turned to dust, my love for you is unending, like a song that has no finish. It just flows from the rivers of life and I—“ I stop as I stare into those violet eyes that have become my refuge for the last century and it’s come to the point where there really is nothing to say.

I pull our lips together and hold him close as the thunder of the stars rattle the nearby mountains and the rain continues its onslaught against our souls as we pour out our very beings into the other.

I ignore the drone of the rain and immerse myself in the essence of his darkness. The gentle whisper of night brushing through our souls and setting the stars on fire as I breathe him in. His mouth opening against my insistence as our tongues glide on an ephemeral breeze, brushing away the pain and the angry darkness, leaving only the bright night sky.

* * *

 


	7. Chapter 7

We spent the next morning trading lazy touches and worshipping each other’s body. The quiet rustle of the morning drowning out our breaths until Rhys had finally pulled himself out of bed, despite my insistence for him to stay. Allowing me one more glance at the contours of his naked body before pulling on his trousers.

 _Where are we going that requires you so early?_ I mumble against the sleepy haze, rubbing my fist into my eyes.

 _We have some matters to attend to with the Illyrian army, however you can choose to stay if you like._ Rhys answers down the bond as he quickly applies the numerous straps and leathers to his muscular frame.

I frown. _No I want to go…just give me a sec._ I murmur as I stretch my sleepy muscles, arcing my back underneath the warm sheets.

I don’t notice his presence until his hot lips find their way to my exposed stomach, kissing a path up to the length of my neck and then a soft kiss to my lips. All the while those gentle hands caressing my back and his rough fighting leathers brushing chest.

 _Beautiful._ He breathes down the bond, his voice filled with awe as he gazes down at my naked form underneath him, his fingers tracing patterns over me.

 _Oh lets not start before I’m a blubbering mess again._ I warn although I can’t fight the smile from my face.

Rhys rolls his eyes and nuzzles his nose against mine before ducking his head into the curve of my neck, his lips brushing my skin as he whispers an entire dictionary onto my skin. I yelp when his teeth scrape the point of my ears and he only chuckles as I swat his arm and push him off of me.

Allowing him one long look at my backside before disappearing into the bathing room.

* * *

We arrive at the Illyrian Steppes a few minutes later, the cold wind biting at our cheeks as we trudge through the thick snow towards the camp ground. Illyrians of all ages are training against one another, the ringing of their blades close to deafening as we approach the sparring ring.

I scan the dismal landscape in the hopes of spotting Cassian in the midst of the sea of leather. However it doesn’t take long, as the Illyrians step back and make way for their Lord and Lady, eyes fixated on the earth beneath them after a particular situation a few decades ago where one frisky Illyrian got misted by a certain High Lord. We finally locate our Commander hunched over a younger Illyrian—roughly 70 years old—and fixing the young boy’s grip on his sword.

“You gotta keep your grip tight but your wrist loose or you’ll break your arm or drop your sword. Got it? Now do it again.” He instructs, stepping back, arms crossed over his broad chest as he evaluates the young soldier.

“Wish you would have trained me as nicely.” I retort and Cassian whips around and a roguish grin takes over his features.

“If it isn’t my favorite High Lady—no offense Rhys—come to get your ass served on a platter?” I roll my eyes and place my hands on my hips.

“You know I never pegged you as delusional.” I retort and his smile only grows wider, lips opening for a response when a familiar voice cuts him off.

“Glad to see you’ve deigned to visit.” Nesta strides out from in between the tents, her golden hair blindingly bright in the light, lips and cheeks rosy with the cold and her delicate hands wrapped around her swollen middle. She smiles in my direction and gives me a soft hug. “Out of two sisters, only one has made an actual effort to see her six month pregnant sibling.” She chides, hands characteristically finding their way to her wide hips.

“I’m sorry Nesta, things have been a little chaotic back at home.” I explain, my hands dipping into my pockets as I fight the cold.

“Ness! What are you doing out here? The cold isn’t good for the baby, you need to go back inside.”

“I’ve had enough of those four dingy walls. And stop sequestering me away as if I’m some terminally ill patient.” Nesta bites and for once Cassian remains silent, his large eyes traveling to her swollen belly and probably deeming her temper as unsafe for the baby.

“If you ladies need time to catch up it’s alright. Cassian and I can take care of a few rebellious war lords.” Rhys offers and I give him a grateful glance.

“Then it’s settled. I’ll show Feyre our little hovel—“

“Cottage!” Cassian corrects and Nesta rolls her eyes, instead opting for grabbing my hand and leading me away from the camp and towards a more secluded cottage at the edge of the woods.

After the war, Nesta had difficulty finding her place amongst the ancient Faeries and once she took up Cassian’s offer to train and noticed the lack of training being given to the other females she asked Cassian to put her in charge of training the female Illyrians. And with her harsh temper, keeping everyone in check was almost a given.

However ever since Nesta had discovered that she was pregnant she had wanted to settle down, but with Cassian gone for weeks or months at a time and taking care of things at the Illyrian camp, she took matters into her own hands and decided to move down here with him until the end of the pregnancy after spending a month alone at their townhouse in Velaris.

“I swear to you if that male tells me to go inside one more time I think I will burn this training camp to the ground.” She growls as she strides inside the warm house. “I’m pregnant for cauldron sake, not sick!”

Inside, the floor is decorated with plush rugs of all shades of mahogany, their furniture rustic and slightly worn with the open floor plan giving the small space an inviting aura as I finally close the door behind me. To my right is a small kitchen with a round wooden table in the middle and to my left two small armchairs and a worn couch. A small door in front of me leading to their small bedroom.

“Where are you going to keep the baby?” I ask.

“I plan to head back to Velaris, I already have a room set up in our townhouse.” She mumbles and I turn around to catch her mouth stuffed with bread. Her eyes widen and she manages to chew a bit before swallowing the entire lump. “What? You’ve never seen bread before?”

“Oh I have…just not you eating plain, regular, white bread that’s all.”

“I _do_ eat white bread! All the time actually.” She retorts and starts grumbling to herself as she puts away an _entire_ bag of small loaves of bread—most notable half empty—into a kitchen cupboard which is also brimming with food.

I bite back a laugh as my clearly angered and emotional sister plops down at the kitchen table and opens a new box of chocolate, three other ones thrown about the room in a haphazard array. I take a seat next to her and monitor her frantic eating.

“Have you decided on a name?” I hedge, afraid I might land on a touchy subject especially with her ranging moods.

“Not yet. Cassian wants to name it after him if it’s a boy and Cassiana as a girl.”

“And you’re okay with this?” I ask, shocked at my sister’s nonchalant response.

“Of course not! But I’m not about to explain that to him, so I just let him ramble on.” She muses as she pops another chocolate into her mouth. At that moment the door swings open and a thin faerie steps in, her wispy brown hair tied back into a bun, dark eyes flitting about the room as she inspects the cottage.

“Hello m’lady, just coming by to clean up the house a bit.” She says as she closes the door behind her.

Immediately Nesta drops the chocolate and her eyes narrow at the oblivious woman who is taking care of Nesta’s mess. Her eyes are trained on her as the woman steps closer to her bedroom door.

“I’ll take care of the bedroom.” She practically growls and the female nods before heading back to the living area and after tidying it up, she steps toward the kitchen area where we are seated, aiming for the empty box of chocolates behind my sister. Nesta’s back goes ramrod straight and her hands come around to encircle her belly, those hard eyes never leaving the female until she mumbles her goodbye and steps out of the house. Nesta looses a breath and goes back to her eating.

“Who’s she?” I wonder aloud as I also take a chocolate from Nesta’s box.

“Cassian hired her to look after me since he feels that a pregnant female ‘ _shouldn’t have to put her baby at risk with common chores_ ’ but I don’t like her.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t.” Nesta answers simply and I know that’s all that I’m going to get out of her.

After a few moments I get up. “I think it’s time for me to get back to Rhys.”

“If you say so.” She answers and doesn’t even move a muscle as I make my way towards the door and out into the brisk weather.

As I make my way towards my mate, I roll my eyes at the odd parents. Poor Cassian and Nesta have only been married 20 years, the youngest couple in the inner circle and already are expecting their first child. I knew better than to take to heart Nesta’s wild and cold demeanor, being six months pregnant in an almost all male camp with only four walls for company would drive me insane as well, not to mention the baby’s role in all of this. As for the actual baby, I wish it luck with two equally dominant, overprotective parents.

 _Finished already?_ Rhys asks as I sidle up to him and link my arm through his.

 _Yes. Nesta and I had an_ insightful _talk._

_And that would be?_

_Perhaps we should wait a few more years before having a baby._

Rhys’ answering laugh boomed across the snowy mountains.

* * *

 


	8. Chapter 8

We spent the rest of the day surveying the Illyrian camp: its inhabitants, working condition and most of all; its sex ratio.

Although Rhys and I have encouraged for decades for women and men to fight together, the prejudices remained high and we had to resort to creating a separate camp for the females. Rhys was not pleased but deep down I was glad.

Before, the women had to constantly be on their guard, no weakness could escape them or the male’s would mow them down. If not, the fear of a sexual assault kept them drained. And it wasn’t that I didn’t want them to be independent and strong, no that was my whole mission.

These women could and _would_ stand their ground against any man. But they shouldn’t have to live in fear of them until they finally reached that stage. It doesn’t matter how strong a soldier is if she’s broken inside. So I was happy that for at least a few hours in their grueling lives, they could have some peace for themselves and just be…girls.

I smile as we enter the females camp, the scent of cooking meals much more pleasant than the smells from the males camp. I nod as women of all shapes and races stand up from their chores or sparring matches and bow reverently.

“Please don’t let me detain you. I don’t want to distract anyone from their training.” I plead as the females had begun to drop their work.

“What brings our High Lady today?” Asks a bold female as she steps down from her sparring ring. Brow slick with sweat and muscles toned as she approaches my mate and I. Her dark skin and strong features would bring fear into the greatest of men.

“Feyre and I are here to check on your living conditions and if you are being trained effectively.” Rhys answers smoothly, hardly ruffled at the woman’s strong demeanor.

“The work here is rough but nothing that we did not sign up for. As for the training…it is decent, nothing that a little extra work can’t fix. But overall we are content.” She admits as she places her hands on her hips. “However Nesta…” The woman’s eyes are alight with humor. “She has a way of testing even the most patient female’s restraint…but she is good. _Very_ good. And she trains us well.”

I bow my head at the good news and smile onto the camp. “I am pleased to hear that everything is going according to plan and that you are all being equally prepared for the battlefield. My mate and I understand the valuable assets of both sexes in times of war and you will prove to many generations after you that every woman has a right to determine her own path.” Many female’s are bowing their heads, nodding in agreement as they begin to turn back to their chores or training.

 _Well said Feyre darling._ Rhys praises on the other side of my mind, dragging a gentle claw against my mental walls.

 _I think I learned a thing or two from spending the last century hearing you give out speeches like free candy._ I tease and my mate only chuckles in return before steering me back towards the male camp to bid our farewell to Cassian before heading home.

As we walk through the murmuring camp in the midst of the early shrouds of night, with only a few rays of sun still peaking over the tipped mountain tops, we spy our Commander enveloping his wife into a tender embrace, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head and rubbing a hand over her swollen belly. Eventually  peering down and murmuring a few words to the baby that has Nesta laughing and shaking her head.

Rhys and I share a glance and decide to head home before interrupting Cassian’s brief period of blissful fatherhood. Disappearing in a wind full of smoke, I catch the happy couple press a soft kiss to each other’s lips with both smiling against each other’s mouth. The quiet sound of their laughter following us all the way home.

* * *

“Are you sure that’s how it goes?” Mor interjects as I try to conjure some form of gracefulness into my body.

I huff and push my hair back from my face, thin strands that escaped the clutches of my braid clinging to my neck. “I don’t know Mor! It’s not like I’ve ever done this before.” I sigh and press a fist to my forehead. “Gods I don’t think I can do this. Not in such a short amount of time.”

“That’s why I brought a little help.” Mor cheers as the door swings open and Elain and Amren step into the room. The former nearly barreling into my arms and pressing tender kisses to my cheeks.

“Oh Feyre it’s you! It’s been nearly a year since I’ve seen you! How’s Nesta? Is she doing alright with the baby?” Elain is nearly breathless as she shoots out question after question.

“Everything’s fine Elain.” I chuckle. “But aren’t you supposed to be at the Autumn Court helping Lucien?” My eyebrows furrow as I scan her delicate frame, her flushed cheeks and bright eyes.

“Oh yes but Mor told me how you needed some help and I decided to pass by…that’s not a problem is it?” She asks and I nearly laugh in her face.

“Of course not! Thank you.” I breathe. “I’m going to need it.” I laugh and Mor joins in.

“So are we going to stand here all day?” Amren intervenes, those gray eyes stern. We all nod in unison, somber moods replacing our previous giddiness. “Show me what you have so far.” She instructs and I do as I’m told, floundering aimlessly all over the ballroom floor.

Elain and Mor burst out into giggles and I scowl in their direction. “Laughing isn’t helping.”

“I’m sorry—“ Elain stops as another giggle steals her breath. “I’ll stop…I’ll stop—“ But not a second after trying to maintain a straight face both Mor and her erupt into another fit of laughter.

“What’s so funny?” I growl not enjoying the ironic similarities of us to silly children.

“It’s just the way you move—“ Elain begins but is breathless from her humor at my expense.

“You look like a drowning chicken!” Mor finishes and both return to their peals of laughter. Even Amren can’t fight a smile.

I can feel a hot blush creeping up the side of my neck and face.“Oh don’t worry about it Feyre, you’ll get better.” Mor soothes as she rubs circles into my back. “Not everyone is good at everything you know.”

“I know.” I mutter ashamedly.

“But no worries, with me and Elain you’ll survive. And if not you have the low bodice.”

* * *

 


	9. Chapter 9

“Stop!” Amren interrupts and raises a hand. “You’re too rough in your movements. This isn’t a battlefield girl, you need to mold yourself to the music. Let go of every muscle in your body—”

“That’s _something_ to hear. Since when have you been an expert on this type of stuff?” Mor accuses as she stares at Amren.

“I’m not. I’m just a woman. And as such, we all have the same abilities to tap into our inner selves, to refer back to our primitive ancestors where dance was a form of art and man and woman had their own part to play…” She pauses. “Besides, I have to keep Varian entertained somehow.“ She suggests and we all wrinkle our faces. We never could understand the dynamic between the miniature High Fae and the tall Summer Court warrior.

“A little too much info tiny one.” Mor responds sarcastically and Amren sends her a steely glare.

“Maybe I can show Feyre?” Elain offers from her plush settee and strides to the center of the room. Removing the outer layers of her dress until she’s only in her thin undergarment and petticoat. “That’s better. There was no way I could move in that restricting dress.” She mumbles and braces herself. She nods towards Amren to play the music again.

And as the melody slowly starts to assemble she’s moving in a graceful twirl, body harmonizing with the music and at times defying gravity. And as the music slows she grows more sensual, lifting her skirt to reveal a long leg, arcing her back in the process before dropping her skirt and prowling toward the center of the room, eyes alight with smoldering flames until she bows and bounces back up, expression neat and hopeful.

“Is that better Feyre?”

I only gaze in shock, my mouth open in awe as I gaze at my sister and compare her innocent form to the seductress of only a few moments before. Mor and Amren are just as surprised.

“ _Elain!_ ” Mor chides but laughs behind a hand, eyes nearly tearing up. “I never expected that from you!”

Elain sucks in her bottom lip and blushes softly as she gazes down at the polished floor. “I have a husband you know.” She mumbles.

And that only sends the rest of us laughing onto the floor, even Amren leaning over a somber statue as she tries to catch her breath from so much laughter. “I think we need to resume lessons another day.” She advises.

* * *

Lounging on my humongous bed back at the townhouse, with my muscles whining from the overexertion earlier, I take my time to dress into an ebony, lacy night gown with a silk shawl draped over my shoulder as I skim through one of Nesta’s romance novels.

Being comfortable is one of my main goals in life, but looking good at the same time tops everything—especially with Rhys as a mate—gods know he could shame any woman with his wardrobe.

It was in this state of utter comfort and bliss that Nuala quietly slips into the room and hands me a sealed envelope. I give her a puzzled expression but she doesn’t respond as she exits the room. I flip the pristine envelope and suck in a breath at the neat cursive defacing the otherwise immaculate letter;

_Tamlin_

_Oh I’m gonna need some wine with this._ I grab my cup from the nightstand and take a long swig before returning my attention to the strange letter. I even utter a quick prayer before pulling open the cheery Spring Court seal.

_Please let it be diplomatic. Please let it be diplomatic. Please let it be about a weed infestation._

Instead of a heartfelt love letter or even a snobby invitation to his wedding with his perfect bride who goes by the name of Fraya, I only got these few simple words.

_Meet me for brunch tomorrow. We need to talk—alone._

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like my cliff hanger…MUAHAHAHA


	10. Chapter 10

Standing in front of the immaculate Spring Court gates, I take a second to take a deep breath before passing it’s teasingly delicate gate.

I had never imagined that I would return to the same mansion that had nearly destroyed me. Forgiving Tamlin was one thing but returning to his home, where memories still replay in constant motion, was a whole other issue.

Not to mention that I had to lie to my mate’s face, his violet eyes completely trusting as I told him that I had some matters to attend to at the Summer Court and that I would be back before dusk. How I had convinced him to take care of our Court without me while I settled a diplomatic issue abroad.

Only an hour ago and I could sense my heart shriveling in my chest, the pain relentlessly pulling my traitorous mind to replay my deception. But I had no choice, there was no way that Rhysand would allow me to visit Tamlin’s court without _at least_ an escort. And with good reason.

The last time I was dragged into this house I was poisoned and left defenseless.

So I lied.

I lied so hard that I thought the bond would snap from my betrayal. That he would smell the deceit on my skin. I was almost surprised that he believed me, but then again, he’s never had reason not to.

So I approached the frilly mansion bedecked with all the blooming offsprings of an eternal spring, the scent of wild flowers and nature’s sweet breeze reminding me of the time before. When this place was not a prison but a palace. When the High Fae standing before me and gesturing me inside was not my enemy but my lover. When the entering hall was not a room of bloodshed but of wonder. When his study was not an interrogation room but just that…a study.

Tamlin gestures for me to sit on one of the upholstered seats as he sits back in his armchair, mouth pressed into a thin line.

“Thank you for coming.” He murmurs but it sounds as if he screamed in my ear for how quiet the room is…or how quiet the entire _house_ is.

“Let’s cut to the point, I haven’t much time before I have to return to Rhysand and I do find it rather odd that all the servants have all suddenly found somewhere else to be than in this house.” I interject, eyes narrowed and cold as I stare down the immortal Fae.

“You’ll thank me for that later _High Lady_.” He mocks, his tongue dragging out the word until it’s almost a hiss.

“If you’re here to just mock me and my title then I’m afraid I have nothing else to speak with you.” I retort and make to rise, squaring my shoulders as I spread out my Night Court dress when he grips my upper arm.

“Wait!” He seethes and I only glare at him, allowing the burning embers to show in my gaze as I allow my skin to radiate heat until I’m burning his hand and with a curse he lets me go.

“Don’t you _dare_ touch me. I am not just a common whore for you to grab and do with what you please. I am _High Lady_ of the Night Court and you owe me and my mate _respect_.” I growl, nearly livid.

“Forgive me Feyre—“

“High _Lady_ Feyre.” I hiss, taking a step forward. “You lost your right to speak to me that way the day you locked me in this house and _took_ me from my mate.”

“I made it up for it didn’t I? I _saved_ you from Hybern’s camp! I _saved_ your mate! And don’t forget that I provided for you family before Rhysand _ever_ appeared in your life.” He growls those emerald orbs nearly glowing with rage. “I thought maybe after a hundred years you would have softened. After all, I’m not the same High Lord that I used to be. I’ve changed…and from the looks you have too _Feyre_.”

I huff and make towards the study door, my Night Court dress trailing after me as I approach the door to the Mansion. Intent on going straight home and apologizing to Rhys for the stupid lie that I committed for no valid reason when Tamlin’s words cut me short;

“I found them. I found their wings.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry. It was an opportunity that I couldn’t miss…


	11. Chapter 11

Time seems to still, the air around me going tight, my lungs suddenly incapable of pulling in the barest whisper of life into my veins. I stare at the door in front of me, not seeing, not hearing, not understanding.

_I found them. I found their wings._

He continues to mumble something behind me but all I can sense is the deathly quiet inside of me. “I thought you said you burned them.” I say so-so quietly. My voice sharp as a blade as I achingly turn towards him.

His face is pallid under my harsh gaze and those emerald eyes dart from the wall to me and back, as if unprepared to face me. “I told you those things to appease you. As far as I knew they could have been. I haven’t seen those wings in centuries!” Tamlin paces about the room, running a hand through his golden hair.

“Where did you find them?” I whisper, venom oozing from every syllable.

“In one of my cellars. They were stored away in a chest of some sort I–”

“Lead me to them.” I murmur and with a snap of his head he leads the way towards the back of the mansion, through the servants quarters until we find ourselves before a wooden door.

With a wave of his hand the door creaks open and the musty smell of the cellar oppresses my nostrils as I try to breathe through its stagnant breath. Old stairs lead down into the dark abyss, faelights lighting our path as Tamlin leads me deeper and deeper into this underground maze. And for a second I fear that I may have been so gullible that he may have tricked me. I curl a fist, rallying my magic if it comes to a confrontation.

But Tamlin makes no move towards me as he continues to lead me towards the end of the cellar until he pauses before what appears to be a large armoire with an old, ratty fabric thrown over its hulking frame.

“This is it.” He whispers against the eery quiet.

I stand still as I gaze upon the ancient tomb of all that is left of Rhy’s family. I can feel an emptiness in my chest, a giant hole of dread, but I could never go back to Rhys and lie to him about today. About what I found. I take one more minute to rally courage and take a deep breath, fingers trembling and when I open my eyes I yank on the white shroud and watch it flutter to the ground…

and I silence the bond.

* * *

I pause from my senseless banter with Cassian, Azriel frowning in my direction as I stay still.

And wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Feeling the world around me narrowing down onto the soundless hallway between Feyre and me. The absence of light and sound. The only thing left the din of an empty corridor with no door to the other side.

I stand up and run my fingers through my hair. My gut twisting as I try to make sense of the silence on the other side.

“Rhysand what’s wrong?” Cassian asks as he comes up to join me and places a brotherly hand on my shoulder.

“Feyre…The bond…It’s…Quiet.” I whisper and Nesta also stands from her relaxing position on the couch, one hand clutching her round stomach.

“Is she alright?” She whispers, fear coating her words.

“I know she’s alive, that kind of absence is altogether different. No Feyre has shut me out. Silenced the bond. And I don’t know why. Tarquin is a friend, war is over, there’s no need for secrecy or hiding. Something’s wrong.”

“She told you she was going to the Summer Court? Alone?” Azriel interjects those shadows writhing over his shoulder. “Rhysand I know my High Lady…she’s not at the Summer Court.”

“But why would she lie to me?” I ask, worry clouding my head in a thickening fog.

“Knowing Feyre, she must have thought it important–” Cassian begins but I interrupt.

“I’m going after her.”

“How Rhys? You have no idea where she is! Besides she closed the bond because she didn’t want you to find her, the only reason she would cut her only communication with you would be because where she is or what she’s doing would pose a danger to you and our Court. You’re going to have to trust her.” Cassian advises and I nearly growl at my own ineptitude.

“I’m such a fool, how did I not see it in her eyes? How could I not sense her lie?” I rub my fist against my brow, furious at how stupid I’ve been.

“Rhysand…” Nesta says as she approaches me. “I know my sister. We have lived in the same cottage for almost our entire childhood, and in this past century I have only learned to know her more. She loves you beyond reason and if she lied to you, it caused her just as much pain. So it has to be for the better good. And you said it yourself. There’s no war and the point is; trust in your mate as you trust in our High Lady.” Nesta counsels and I gaze back at those fiery eyes and smile wanly as I grab one of her hands.

“I will Nesta.”

* * *

 


	12. Chapter 12

I stifle a gasp as I stare at the glass enclosure, its dirty surface in the dim light making it almost impossible to peer into its contents. But despite the lack of visibility, it was all too clear to notice the large membraneous shadows clustered in the stifling coffin.

My fingers are a trembling mess as I try to summon courage, to will my heart to stop its frantic beating, as my fingers grasp the sides of the glass panels and pull with all my might. But the glass does not budge, dirt is now encrusted underneath my nails and I nearly growl in frustration.

“Why won’t it open?” I growl, fingers balled into fists as I try to restrain my erratic emotions.

Tamlin swallows audibly. “It has a spell—“

“What kind of spell?” I ground out as I stalk towards him, ready to strangle him if need be.

“Uh…um…a locking spell…I didn’t want anyone to-“

“Listen to me Tamlin and listen closely.” I whisper, voice deadly quiet, “If you do not open this chest in the next two seconds, I will unleash upon you the darkest night that my Court has to offer and I will plague your lands until you forget how the sun even felt on your _useless_ hide.” I threaten and Tamlin’s eyes widen as he takes in my ferocity.

“You wouldn’t dare.” He breathes and I nearly launch myself at him at the disbelief in his voice.

“Open it NOW.” I roar and he nearly trips in his haste to reach the damn glass and press a smooth palm over its surface. It begins to release a feverish light, almost blinding, until it winks out and the glass slowly pivots open, the creaking of the hinges raising the hairs on my arms as the contents of that hellish cage are finally clear.

My heart suddenly gallops to a stop as a cry is nearly ripped from throat, one hand clamping over my lips as I take in the majestic wings pinned to the wooden panel behind it. I’m hesitant to come any closer.

But I do.

I step so close that I run a delicate finger over its dry surface, the normal leathery feel gone…all that remains are wrinkles in its papery surface, their texture that of fall’s broken leaves, all that remains their broken carcasses before being swept away in winter’s storm.

I can hardly swallow as I turn my gaze to the wings to my left, the talon adorning its uppermost portion dull with age, its points blunt from continual use. I pass a soft hand over its delicate skin until I reach the uppermost corner where dried muscle and tissue are only charred chunks from where they were ripped from their backs. I whimper escapes my lips as hot tears rain down my face as I imagine their suffering, their pain, their—

I pause as I take in a tiny spot hidden in a crook of the wing, so achingly familiar that I nearly jolt back. The tiny blemish brings a roar to my lips as I scream against the hot flash of pain in my chest, in my heart, in my soul, as I realize who this wing belonged to.

For how could I not recognize the familiar blemish that was all too similar to the one on my mate’s. After centuries of gazing upon him in wonder, there was no way that I would not recognize them anywhere.

I can hardly control myself as I slam my knees onto the floor, hands clawing at my eyes as I try to erase the face behind the wings, the woman who loved my mate so much. How can I tell him? How do I tell him that I found his mother’s wings?

For a few moments, I had believed that maybe this was just a dream or someone else’s wings, my mind refusing to believe that this could be all that is left of Rhysand’s family.

Pain so fierce is gripping my chest as I try to breathe. Pain for the mother and daughter who remained pinned in a box for nearly 300 hundred years and most of all; pain for the male who would have to relive their deaths all over again.

For that was what was scorching my soul, the pain, the fear, the hate that would possess him. How I loathed to be the one to tell him, to rip open those scarred wounds. For I don’t think he would ever survive it and I could not survive in a world without him.

So I screamed.

I screamed so loud that I hoped that all of Prythian would hear my cries and know that these women were loved and that they did not deserve to die. That my mate did not deserve this pain, that he should never have to go back into the darkness of a starless night.

* * *

I am nearly at my wit’s end when the door to the townhouse swings open and I nearly barrel into Feyre as I scramble towards the entrance, desperate to make sure she’s alright. I grip her by her shoulders, feeling for anything even though she still hasn’t opened the bond.

I can sense Nesta’s anxiety behind me, along with Cassian and Azriel’s curiosity tinged with their need to defend their High Lady. And before I can say anything they quietly usher themselves out of the house, giving Feyre a quick once-over for any visible injuries and disappearing into the darkening skies.

“Feyre? Feyre look at me.” I nearly beg as I try to brush the wisps of hair out of her eyes and find the dark circles underneath them. Her cheeks are tinged with pink from crying and those round eyes swollen and red. “What’s wrong my love…talk to me…” I murmur as I try to coax a reaction out her.

She takes in a shuddering breath and allows her meek gaze to reach my own, those doleful eyes laden with sorrow that I cannot understand. “I’m so sorry…” She whispers hoarsely as if she’s been screaming for the last few hours. “For lying to you, for—“

“Shh.” I silence as I bring her frail body and press her against my own, hating the quiet of the bond and the heat of her tears soaking my shirt. “There’s nothing to forgive…I just want to know what has caused you these tears…who hurt you?” I growl quietly, heat pooling in my veins as my instincts roar for me to find the person who did this to my mate and destroy them.

“No one!” Her head snaps up as she presses those delicate palms over my chest, those eyes supplicating as she tries to rein in my temper but her eyes are pooling up again and I can’t take it anymore.

“What’s going on Feyre?” My voice losing some of that gentleness. “Why did you close the bond? I almost went insane! I didn’t know where you were or what you were doing and I…” I loose a deep breath and run my hand through my disheveled hair. “I was so afraid of losing you. I hate not knowing where you are or if I can help and then you _lying_ to me just made me feel—“

“Please Rhysand…” Feyre interrupts, fresh tears running down her face as her fingers curl into the fabric of my shirt. “I’m so sorry! I lied and I hate myself for doing it and I wish I never did…I didn’t trust you and it’s my fault. I should have trusted my mate as I have trusted my High Lord and I betrayed you and you have _every_ right to be angry with me. Nothing should be worth our trust and I don’t ever want to lose you.” She sobs and I crush against my chest, feeling the hot tears trailing my cheeks and landing onto her golden hair.

“I’m not angry darling, I could never be angry at you but I was worried. I was so scared that I couldn’t reach you and I still don’t understand why you’re crying or why you closed the bond.” I pull away and keep her at arms length, forcing her to meet my eyes. “Show me your trust…tell me what happened Feyre.”

I can see her jaw clenching as she tries to suppress her emotions, wiping angrily at the onslaught from her eyes before pulling herself together momentarily and opening those chapped lips.

“I hate that I have to be the one to tell you.” Her voice wobbles as she grabs my hands and tries to encase them in her clammy ones. “But I love you Rhysand and please don’t shut me out—“

“Feyre you’re scaring me…what have you done?” My eyes narrow onto her skittish features and her guilty countenance. She lowers her eyes and swallows audibly before whispering oh-so-quietly that I fear that even the breath that escaped her lips didn’t hear;

“I found their wings. I saw them.” And before I can even comprehend what she’s telling me she finally opens the bond.

* * *

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here’s your update! Just letting you guys know that I am working literally 12 hour days every week and before I updated because I was ahead on my writing but now that I’m literally trying to keep up with you guys, I might be updating every Saturday…I’m not happy about this either but I will try to type as much as I can today so that I can keep updating through out the week! Enjoy my lovelies!
> 
> Just a warning (for Tumblr): So just to let you guys know that sometimes your tags don’t work, so if I’m not tagging you its not because I forgot, its that you’re not “tagable” so if you want to get updates and you’re not being tagged I always update my Fan Fiction Master Post which is on my description (on Tumblr) so you can always see if there’s an update ☺️ (Find me @highladyofthenightcourt5 )

* * *

I’m overwhelmed with emotions, wave after wave of fear, anxiety, hatred, pain, and loss barreling into me and threatening to pull me under. Until the haze finally clears and I can see what has caused my mate so much distress.

Their wings. Pinned to a box as if some sick trophy, a spoil from war, and I can feel soft hands trying to soothe me, to call me back home but all I can understand is the empty buzzing in my mind. The eery quiet in my chest where my heart usually beats.

It’s quiet.

Everything is so-so quiet.

I step forward and Feyre’s hands reach out and stroke the wing to her left but I don’t need to wait to know who it belongs to. I grew up with those sheltering wings that held me during my darkest nights and taught me how to fly. I remember running chubby hands over those menacing talons, laughing with delight at their sharpness.

The tiny birthmark in the upper right corner of her wing is only proof of what I have feared for centuries. That all this time they have remained locked in a box, unable to fly to a better place. Stationary. Stuck. _Helpless_.

I sense my knees buckling and the brief pain does nothing to the yawning void opening up inside my chest. The cool emptiness filling up with the gurgling of blood. Blood from the women who mattered the most to me. The women who I failed.

Nothing matters anymore.

All that is around me is the gurgle, gurgle, gurgle, of time running out.

The gurgle, gurgle, gurgle, reminding me that I can’t run from my sins forever.

The gurgle, gurgle, gurgle, of retribution.

* * *

I had expected many things when I finally opened the bond to him.

But not this.

Not the strange quiet that overcame his pallid features. Not the fog that clouded those violet eyes. Not the aloofness of his mind and soul that even reaching past his mental shields I couldn’t get a hold of him. To bring him back from that dark place that I feared he would turn to once I found their wings.

“Rhysand?” I hedge, loathing the echo of my voice in the hall and the way my voiced didn’t register a thing in his mind. “Rhysand darling…come back.” I whisper as I follow him to my knees and place my hands on either sides of his face. Those beautiful eyes so lost, reliving everything and gaining nothing. “Rhys don’t do this. Don’t shut me out—“

“Where are they?” His voice comes out so hushed and strange. Those eyes slowly drawing to my face, as if not understanding who I am.

I swallow. “I brought them…but I don’t want to show you until you get better—“

“I want to see them.” He interrupts and abruptly gets up, pushing me away and stealing from my preoccupied mind the exact location.

He strides down the hallway, footsteps echoing in the empty house, legs moved by the vigor of his pain. His need to see. I scramble to keep up, hating how I struggle to keep up with him or even convince him to listen to me.

“Rhysand! Don’t do it! You’re not ready—“

But he refuses to heed my warning before blasting open those library doors with his dark magic, eyes scanning the room before landing on the sinister chest containing the only relics of his childhood.

He stands there in silence. Staring at the wings before him until he reaches forward and with surprising delicacy caresses the frail wings. He doesn’t speak. Too lost in his pain and memories to even register my existence.

So I leave him to his thoughts, brushing away the silent tears from my eyes for what we lost today. His mother and sister.

And my mate.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note:
> 
> Trust me I’m not happy about this either! But I’m just letting my fingers type here. I’m totally going off script. This little dilemma literally came as I was updating Bright as the Night Sky and now I have to suffer the consequences of an inquisitive mind. (I really hated how SJM solved the whole “wing” problem) Like two sentences on how they were burned does not satisfy the whole ACOMAF foreshadowing in my opinion.


	14. Chapter 14

* * *

I knock hesitantly on Mor and Azriel’s door, hoping beyond hope that they didn’t go out for the night. But before I can raise my fist and knock again, the door swings open on silent hinges and Mor’s worried expression alerts me that Azriel probably told her about my morning escapade.

I try to wipe the salt from my face and hide the wobble in my tone as I ask her; “Can I come in?”

Mor nods vigorously. “Of course, come in.” She takes one look at my haggard expression and she responds “I’ll send Azriel over to Cassian and Nesta’s place in Velaris. You’re sister came to see you and Elain but you weren’t there…” She trails off and her eyes land on her mate coming down the stairs, shadows swirling around him.  

“Are you alright?” He asks as he embraces me in a brotherly hug.

I shake my head but reply; “Please keep an eye on Rhysand…he’s not doing very well.” I breathe and show him the source of my misery onto his mind. The only shock on his face is the widening of his eyes and the hitch in his breath before he plants a quick kiss on Mor’s forehead and gives me a quick bow.

“I’ll go to him right away and bring Cassian with me. Nothing will happen to our High Lord. Rest assured.” He answers before striding towards the front door and taking off into the night sky.

* * *

Sitting on Mor’s large mattress with a cup of wine I tell her everything. From Tamlin’s letter, to the wings…and then when I told Rhysand.

“I thought he would be angry…and heartbroken.” I whisper, wiping away the rogue tears that refused to stay inside. “But not…this. Not this empty shell. Mor I _tried_ to talk to him, tried to reason with him! But it was as if he was under a spell. He just couldn’t comprehend anything else!” I hide my face in my hand as I try to wipe the memory of his empty countenance. “I don’t know what to do.” I mumble.

“Feyre?” Mor says and I raise my eyes to her chocolate orbs. “You have been a wonderful mate, wife, High Lady, and sister. So I’m going to tell you what you told me oh-so-many weeks ago; I, more than anyone, know how much Rhysand loves you. He would do anything for you. Just how you would do anything for him. And I know how much your hurting about this…but he’s also hurting…and perhaps there’s a deeper meaning behind his rejection. I _know_ it has nothing to do with you…I feel like this might have to do with him and perhaps he needs a little more time.” She counsels and I nearly giggle at the ironic twist in our situations. No one can understand the eddies of the cauldron.

“I should sue you for copyright.” I tease, wiping the stiff salt from my eyes.

“All jokes aside Feyre.” Mor’s voice turns serious. “When he calms down, talk to him. Get him to tell you what’s on his mind. If _I_ managed to do it with _Azriel_ who speaks about as much as a mute then you can get Rhysand to speak with you. And when you do, everything will work out.” She says as she pats my knee and grabs my free hand that isn’t nursing a cup of wine and places it on her flat stomach. “Because of your help I’m having a child and he or she will never have to grow up wondering why their father is so distant.” She breathes and smiles through the tears dripping from those soulful eyes. “Thank you Feyre.”

I can’t control the onslaught of emotion and resolve to pulling the bright blonde into my arms and crying into her hair while spilling wine all over the mattress and our dresses as I celebrate with her.

For the spark of hope and wonder that would be joining us very soon.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yay! Pregnant Mor and Inner Circle bonding!!! I really love these scenes and the next few Feysand ones are to die for! I just love them and can’t wait for this fic to end so I can have all my ideas finally down on paper! I love it!


	15. Chapter 15

* * *

I left Mor’s townhouse hours later after Azriel returned and informed me that—although distraught—Rhysand was alright and that I should return home to speak to him. So I did.

I entered our quiet townhouse, walked through the dark hallway and found the wings intact in the library. Strangely enough…nothing seemed amiss. No scorch marks on the rug, no tattered books strewn across the room.

Absolutely nothing.

I continued my search and found Rhysand nursing a drink in his hand in our bedroom study, his free hand stuffed in his trouser pocket. He didn’t bother looking up as I walked in, his eyes focused on the dark sky outside our bedroom window. He didn’t show any signs of distress. No rumpled papers, all our furniture intact, his face wasn’t even disturbed.

Just empty.

And I wish he had done all that, instead of ignoring me and drinking a bottle of scotch.

I summon courage and enter the room. Closing the double doors behind me with a soft click. I stride over to where he is standing and pour myself a drink too. Taking a light sip besides him before finally speaking;

“Are you mad at me?” I murmur, not in fear but in respect of the pressing silence all around us. For a few minutes there’s no answer and I believed he would just ignore me for the rest of the night before his hoarse voice cracks the silence.

“No.”

“Then why won’t you speak to me? Why can’t you look at me?” I question and his eyes slowly move towards my mine but there’s no flicker, no life.

“There’s nothing to say.” He answers roughly and makes to put down his cup and walk away when I grab his arm.

“Of course there’s something to say! There _must_ be! Your mother and sister’s _wings_ are in our godsdamn _living room_ and you have nothing to say?” My voice quickly loses the quiet cover of night and starts to escalate. “Tell me what you’re feeling. Let me help you out of that _emptiness_!”

“There’s no saving me!” He roars and runs his hands through his hair, clearly distressed. But it was better than the empty quiet.

“What are you _talking_ about? You are _High Lord_ of the Night Court! You have your entire inner circle ready to help with anything!” I pause, feeling a stutter in my chest. “And you have me.” I add in a quiet sob. “You have me and that should be enough. Because I’m not afraid of the darkness and I _want_ you to see the light. I _want_ to help you Rhys. Please…let me help.” I offer, tears burning my tired eyes as I cup a hand around his face, willing him to look me in the eye. “I love you. I _need_ you. And I _want_ you to trust me.” I whisper as I guide our foreheads together, sharing our breaths as I try to send soothing touches down the bond.

“I can’t escape my sins. There’s too much blood.” He whispers brokenly. “I have to pay—“

“You have already paid. For centuries you have paid enough. You didn’t kill them. You loved them and they live through the love that you show to the world. You keep them alive with every breath that you take in the name of all that is good. But now you must set them free and _live_ Rhys. _Live_ and _love_ fiercely and you will repay them for their deaths. Save other mothers and daughters from the same fate and you will pay your debt.”

He swallows and nods softly. “Thank you Feyre.” He murmurs, pressing a gentle hand to the side of my face and a tender kiss to my lips before guiding us to bed. He shucks off his tunic and pants until he’s naked and pulls back the covers for me once I change into a comfortable nightgown.

Although not completely satisfied by my request he climbs into bed and holds me to his large frame, hands running soothing motions over my body in an attempt to alleviate his anxiety. Which I return with gentle strokes over the planes of his back until he’s curled over my body, his head resting on my chest and holding me in his arms for the remainder of the night.

* * *

 


	16. Chapter 16

* * *

The next morning Rhysand announced the news to the people of Velaris. Calling for a mourning period as he arranges for his mother’s and sister’s funeral, to finally lay what’s left of their bodies to rest in the city they adored.

In reality no one could help Rhysand prepare for the funeral. He wanted to do it on his own and refused to allow anyone other than the Inner Circle to the actual burial site. So while the people of Velaris mourned and set out candles, the Inner Circle, along with Elain, Lucien and Nesta trudged through the freezing rain—a fitting setting for what was to come—until we reached the top of a cliff on one of the mountain sides with the Sidra running beneath it. The people of Velaris crammed on the ground below, watching from a distance.

I start at the sight of the untouched ground and the chest protecting the wings from the harsh rain. “Where is the burial site Rhys?” I ask him, grabbing onto his arm. His face is grim and he doesn’t shelter himself from the rain, instead allowing rivulets of water to run down his face and drip off his chin. Soaking him to the bone.

“They have been stuck in a box for hundreds of years. I want to set them free.” And I nod in understanding. Grabbing his hand we both approach the only remaining pieces of his family and gently lay them on the ground. A pocket of air protecting them from the rain.

“I’d like to say something.” Cassian says as he leaves the vicinity of the shelter surrounding the Inner Circle protecting them from the rain, Nesta clutching her round stomach and gazing somberly onto the frail wings while Lucien and Elain hold onto each other, Elain sobbing into his tunic. Azriel breaks from Mor’s hold and also steps into the rain.

“As should I.” His voice ringing across the craggy cliff tops with surprising clarity and Cassian claps him on the back before approaching the wings before him and kneeling on one knee before them.

“You were a bright and beautiful woman Mairenn. And Aislinn was just like you. Pure from the inside out. You both deserved more and I hope to pay my respects for your life when we see each other again. I will never forget the woman who took in a bastard born Illyrian.” Cassian’s last words are hushed out by the rain and the drop in his voice. The flood from the sky hide the tears he sheds as he bows his head and leaves, squeezing Nesta’s hand once he returns to the shelter.

Azriel steps forward and repeats the same motions as Cassian. Bowing his head he speaks; “You showed me the same kindness and you helped heal me from the broken boy I was to the still healing man I am today. You were a blessing in my life and in your son.” Rhysand bows his head beside me, pressing his lips into a thin line as he tries to maintain his composure. “I hope you can move forward with your daughter and find peace.” He murmurs and returns to Mor as well.

“May I speak?” Lucien raises a hand and Rhysand nods briefly as the High Lord of Autumn gets down on one knee. “I would like to apologize on behalf of the family who did this to you. Who murdered two women for spite and left a gaping whole in the lives around them. Nothing can repay the blood debt but perhaps this is a start.”

I wipe my eyes as Lucien returns to Elain who is nodding proudly and as Rhysand moves forward I step up. “I would like to say something.” Rhysand motions for me to go forward and already my bones are chilled by the cold rain but I endure. For my mate and for his family I would do this.

I drop before the papery wings and feel my chest begin to fill with light. “I have never met you…you do not know who I am or why I am here…but I love your son. I love him with all my being and it pains me to see him so distraught over the death of his family. I want to fill the whole in his heart where you were taken…not to replace…but to heal. I want to heal our family and start a new one. I want to forge and create and hopefully with that I can set right the wrong of centuries before.” I pause and look up at Rhys who’s eyes are wide. “I hope I have passed the test for your son with your engagement ring and I wear it with pride, knowing that the woman before me must have been so kind, so loving and strong…that she made the beautiful man standing before me today. A dreamer in a world full of nightmares. Let me continue that dream.” I whisper as I stand up and return to my mate who gives my hand a strong squeeze.

“That was beautiful Feyre.” He murmurs and I wipe my eyes for the final time as we wait for the inner circle to return home. Leaving only Rhysand and I to pay our respects in private.

So I allowed him one last moment with his mother and sister, watched him finally break the empty barrier around him and his tears to land on their remains. Watched his hulking frame shake with sobs as he poured out his heart and finally ripped open his wounds for the last time. Watched him set them on fire and collect their ashes before standing over the cliff face and setting them free over the raging Sidra. Watched as every last sorrow floated on a phantom wind.

I watched all of it.

And then I healed him for the last time.

* * *

 


	17. Chapter 17

* * *

Rhysand and I returned to our townhouse, drenched and emotionally exhausted, a few hours later. We had barely spoken on our way here. After a painful morning, there wasn’t much to say.

So we climbed the stairs to our bedroom and quietly slipped out of our clothes, backs turned against each other. We didn’t even take our usual shower together.

Rhysand just motioned for me to go without him and I obliged. I didn’t want to push him. So when I finished toweling off, he went in to take a shower while I pulled on one of my more modest night gowns. Clearly this wasn’t a night for love making.

It was here, lying in our warm bed, fisting the sheets in my hand, listening to the rustle of his towel and the tap, tap of the shower head that I finally spoke;

“You never told me their names.” I say quietly as he enters the bedroom and sits down on his side of the mattress. “Not once.” I whisper, hating the the pitiful part of me that would find this important on the day of their funeral.

Rhysand takes a breath, eyes slowly scanning our room before finally turning to me. “My mother’s name was Mairenn which in our old language means obstinacy or rebelliousness.”

A fitting name for the woman who nearly starved herself for eighteen years to escape a fate she didn’t choose and who—despite her loveless mating bond—still found joy in her children.

“And your sister?” I whisper, now remembering the names Cassian had murmured at the funeral.

“Aislinn…” Rhysand pauses and I can see his eyes glaze over as he watches his sister play out in his mind. “Which means dream or vision. After having me, my mother didn’t think she could have another child and one night she dreamt that she would be pregnant with a baby girl. Not soon after her dream was proven correct, so she named her Aislinn in remembrance of her vision.” I nod understandingly and curl myself closer into the mattress, watching Rhysand heave another sigh before pulling back the comforter and joining me in bed and extinguishing the last remaining candles in our room.

“How did they look?” I whisper against the quiet of the night, the darkness of the sky giving our room a peaceful feel if not private.

“My mother had my midnight hair.” His voice rumbles across the still room, and I can make out the silhouette of his hand running through his shorn hair, as if remembering how it felt to run his hands through hers. “It was long and beautiful…down to her waist. But she had these crushing blue eyes that sparkled with a life of their own. Her lips were always in a smile, despite my father and her’s strained relationship. And her wings…” He trails off and I have to covertly wipe a tear snaking its way down the corner of my eye.

“They were breathtaking…what we saw today was only a shadow of her former glory. A faded relic of what was my mother. They were easily thirty feet in length and she could will them to do almost anything. She taught me everything I know.” I allow him to sort out his mind in peace as I grab his hand from underneath the sheets and give him a squeeze which he returns.

“And your sister?”

“Aislinn was a little firedrake, she was feisty and competitive and hated to be on the losing side. It didn’t help that she was a tiny thing, hardly five feet tall but she made up for it with sheer will. She would train beside me everyday, cursing her long braids for always flying into her face whenever we would spar, which I would always use to my advantage…She had my mother’s midnight hair but the palest skin, cream white like fallen snow…” he pauses and one finger traces the bridge of my nose and my cheekbones.

“She had these tiny freckles along her face, she even had one in her eye, those bright evergreen eyes…” he whispers and I press a kiss to his open palm, running a hand up his forearm in the hopes of encouraging him to continue, to not shut down. “I miss them so much Feyre…in my mind its like they never left…they live on perfect, healthy, happy…and sometimes its so hard to make out the difference between what’s in my head and what’s really around me. For years I kept thinking they would walk in my front door, laughing and lugging around an armload of goods…but they never did…and they never will…” He breathes and I scoot closer to him so that I can wrap my body around his large frame, to impose on him my support and love, as I try to help him shoulder the pain.

“You’re not alone my love. But they’re free now and we will see them again in the after life and there won’t be time to remember these tears or the loss, only a promise for the future.” I pause and take a breath. “We can’t bring back your family but we can make one of our own and we can finish what your mother wanted to start. A united front ruling the Night Court with only love as their weapon, a family worth protecting. I want to do that with you, if you will let me.”

Rhysand’s hands reach out for me in the dark and hugs me tighter to his body, one hand cupping my face as he breathes onto my hair. “I do Feyre. I would love that very much.”

* * *

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I’ve FINISHED this fan fiction! Just need to post the next few chapters, so just to give you a heads up the last chapter in this fiction will be Part 20. Just a heads up. 
> 
> ALSO. Because I took so long to post this week, I am going to post TWO chapters today and hopefully/saddly post the final chapter tomorrow. 
> 
> This has been a great experience with all of you and hope you guys enjoy the next installment and hopefully my next fiction which will be Feysand Pregnancy!

* * *

_One Month Later_

“Mor did I put this on right?”

“No you didn’t.”

“You sure that goes there?”

“Positive.”

“What about—“

“ _Don’t_ question me Feyre!”

“Fine…what’s that?”

“Cauldron boil me Feyre you’re worse than Amren before breakfast…could you _hold_ still!”

“I’m sorry! I’’m just a tad bit nervous that’s all.”

“A tad bit?” She questions, one hand on her hip as she holds swatches of fabric in her arms.

“ _Mor!_ ” I whine and slump into a nearby chair, rubbing a hand over my forehead.

“What’s the matter with you? I’ve never seen you so weird.” She says as she crosses over to my slouching form and sits on the chair’s armrest.

“I don’t know! Maybe it’s because it’s my 100th anniversary with Rhys and only a month ago I _burned_ his mother and sister’s wings or that I have _no_ idea what I’m doing, if I even _can_ do it without making a _fool_ out of myself or even if Rhys will enjoy it after a hell of a month—“

“Feyre!” Mor places her hands on my shoulders and forces me to look at her eyes. “You need to calm down. You have spent how many years with Rhys?”

“One hundred” I reply.

“Exactly. Which means he has seen every side of you and he loves every single one of them. So calm down and be a woman!” She says as she makes her way to the table with the rest of my dress.

It was made out of the darkest silk, sown with the finest diamonds a jeweler could offer and tapered off to my exact measurements. I allow Mor to finally dress me and she stands back to take a look and her eyes are sinister.

“Oh I’ll be hearing more about Rhysand’s reactions later tonight.” She suggests and I smack her arm.

“Not helpful.” I mutter as I turn towards the full length mirror and gaze at the fitted bodice—which does wonders for my modest breasts—and the low skirt resting just above my hip bones, leaving the flat expanse of my stomach exposed. I pull the thin fabric from the table and clip it to the circlet woven into my hair, watching as the silk fabric curtains off my nose and lips, leaving only my heavily painted eyes, which reflect the night sky from the metallic silver in the center of my eye to the darkening black shade brushed to the outer edges of my eye lid, with a thick line of kohl applied to my upper lids to thicken my lashes. Beneath the seductive curtain, my lips are a deep wine red.

For months I had been planning this. Hoping I could explain to my mate how special today was. That a century later we are still ruling together, that a century later we still find moments together that take our breath away.

And I want this to be another moment.

“Just missing one thing.” Mor says as she comes back with a tiny box in her hands.

“What is it?” I ask as I take the box and lift the neat, square lid revealing a beautiful diamond choker. Perfectly designed to match my dress for the night. “Mor.” I choke, pressing a hand to my parted lips.

“I thought it would look nice with the dress. Besides you know I have nothing to spend my money on. Take it.” She says as she forces my hand to close over the tiny box. “You earned it.”

* * *

 


	19. Chapter 19

* * *

I can feel my nerves getting the best of me. Pacing outside the throne room door isn’t always a good sign. On the contrary, it’s a very bad one.

Controlling my emotions from exiting down the bond is almost excruciatingly difficult, what with me being nervous and my-mate-being-on-the-other-side-of-the-door-completely-unaware-of-my-intentions and all.

I try to think of all of Mor’s encouraging words and gently finger the delicate choker now adorning the column of my throat. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, willing courage into my limbs before I finally push through those huge double doors.

The throne room is empty, just I had planned. The cavernous hall looming above me as I will a glamour over my seductive features as I approach a curious Rhys sitting on his throne. His eyes light up at the glamour of my pretty Night Court dress and the tiny box in my hand.

“What’s this?” He asks I approach his comfortable form leaning on the formidable throne. He seems perfectly at ease, with his crown gracing his perfect forehead and his usual black jacket and trousers. He eyes me appraisingly as I hand him the tiny box, allowing a little bit of my intentions to filter through my words.

“Happy anniversary.” I whisper in a sultry tone into his ear, as he grabs the box and smirks at what would appear to be my obvious intentions.

“Another lacy number you want me to approve?” He purrs as he pulls on the delicate string holding the box together.

It’s as he finally removes the lid and finds nothing inside when he turns to look up at me and finds me cloaked in tendrils of night, my outfit finally visible to him. His violet eyes widen and he perks up in his throne, his back going ramrod straight.

“I couldn’t figure out how to fit myself in a box.” I purr as I make my way down the throne steps, allowing the slip of fabric to grace him with my backside. “So I found a new way to please my High Lord.” I whisper in a sultry undertone as I turn to face him and bolt the doors leading in and out of the throne room. “And in turn…you’re mine for the evening.” I allow some bite into my words, knowing he enjoys it when I’m rough.

Rhys doesn’t even flinch. Not at the magically bolted doors, not even at the seductress before him.

No no.

Not even close.

His eyes are trained on me and, in a purely animalistic motion, he rolls his shoulders, hands placed on his knees with a feline smile gracing his sinful lips. A quiet growl escaping his throat nearly causing my ovaries to convulse inside of me. No this isn’t a man to be seduced.

This is predator.

And his gaze is on me.

Refusing to back down, I cast him a sultry smile underneath the slip of silk covering my face and  cast the room in darkness, my night filling the cavernous room until all that’s left is the throne before me and the wicked predator watching my every move.

“A nice trick Feyre darling.” Rhys booms from his throne. “But you forget that I am Lord of the Night.” He breathes in the most delicious voice. I watch as a darkness, much darker and stronger than mine, prowls towards my body and curls around one leg, snaking up to my mid thigh before tightening it’s hold. “And that you belong to me…mate.” He nearly growls, those feline eyes glowing in the darkness as if this is where he belongs; in the sultry cover of the night.

“That is where you’re mistaken.” I breathe and I allow light to fill up every inch of me. The brightest, purest light and I shine it onto my mate’s darkness and watch as the dark tendril wrapped around my leg slithers out of my reach. I follow it’s movement until it returns to it’s owner, my mate now smiling smugly like a preening cat at my audacity.

“Prove me wrong.” He purrs and relaxes his poised posture and leans back into his chair, those violet eyes alive with a carnal fire that I know will consume me.

And as of now, the games have begun.

I slowly introduce the music, allowing its sensual chords to soothe the night, to ease away all the fear and violence, leaving only the passions of the body.

Rhys is still leaning back into his chair, enjoying every second. But I’ll get him to sit right, I’ll get him to growl my name and I’ll get him to his knees before me. He will not forget my little stunt tonight.

Oh no. Not tonight.

So I let go of all the tension in my body and succumb to the humming in my blood. To the lust racking my brain and just trust my inner nature as I raise my hands above my head and sensually sway my hips to the thrum of the music. Allowing my head to tip back in ecstasy as I kick out one leg and allow him to gaze at the white of my flesh, at the graceful arc of my foot before twirling back to gage his reaction.

The passion in his eyes is undeniable, the lust overriding his features exposing his elongated canines and the claws at his hands.

I am bringing out his beast…and I like that very much.

I call to his baser side and drop to the balls of my feet, allowing the thin material to fan around me as I crouch and let out a low hiss, my canines protruding from my lips as I summon my wings and feel them unfurl from my back. The entire time watching him as he tries to restrain himself but he releases a rumbling growl as he stalks down those dais steps, each stride revealing the wings taking form on his back, their pointed talons menacing in the darkness of the room with only my body as a source of light.

I wait until he’s close before kicking out a long leg and catching his foot and I nearly laugh with wicked glee as he falls and lands on his back. I give him no time as I prowl towards his fallen form and straddle his narrow hips, pinning his muscular arms to the floor above his head.

He struggles underneath me but I use my magic to keep him pinned as I grind my hips against his and watch him writhe underneath me. Those violet eyes smoldering.

That’s when I know that if he ever catches me, he will make me pay.

But I can feel my heart picking up pace as I lean down and whisper oh-so-softly into his ear; “That’s what you get for all those times pinning me underneath you. It’s no fun when you can’t play back.” I tease as I nip his earlobe and swipe my tongue up the column of his throat, earning me a deep rumble in his chest. “You’re mine.” I purr as I lean back and unbutton his shirt, button by button. Each one agonizingly slipping off before my fingers graze another one.

I make sure that he’s watching all of this, those beautiful wings restless underneath him as I finally finish his shirt and lick my lips. Enjoying the way his eyes are trained on my tongue as I press a proprietary kiss on his muscular stomach, his muscles tightening at the contact of my moist lips. “My little Illyrian isn’t enjoying this I see.” I tease some more as I swipe my tongue up from his navel to his chest. He growls underneath me and almost manages to override my magic before I strengthen my hold on him. “Ah ah ah.” I chide, as I crawl over his delicious body, making sure to press my core against him. “You don’t get to finish this tonight.” I chuckle darkly before winnowing a few yards away and allowing him to break free of my magic and to get to his feet.

He’s ravenous now. His chest rising and falling as he tries to control the beast prowling underneath his skin. Not to mention that he left his shirt behind on the tile floor.

Not that anybody’s complaining.

I dance around the five feet radius that I’ve set around him, enjoying the way those calculating eyes never leave me and I know he’s planning on striking. Especially since he has his hands clasped behind his back as if I’m some sight show.

_We’ll see about that._

I take him by surprise and winnow behind him, running a light finger over the silky membrane of his wing before winnowing away. He looses a growl and swipes for me but I’m out of his reach. I continue to taunt him this way, hiding myself in the shrouds of his magic before peeking up and running a hand over his gorgeous wings and relishing the shudders that rack his body every time I touch him.

I’ve nearly worked him into a frenzy when I finally decide to pay attention to the bond. All this time, we were relying on our primal senses to pick up on the other, ignoring the spiritual one binding us together. It’s as I’m fiddling with the bond and trying to find its source that an iron grip bands me to a chest and I scent his usual odor of citrus and smoke with the musky scent of his sweat.

His arm is pinning me into place, his magic forcing my arms to remain at my side as he takes his time inhaling my scent, his nose skimming my hair, down the slender slope of my neck to my shoulder where he teases the sensitive skin with his canines but not claiming me. Despite how his blood sings for it, how his instincts scream at him to sink his teeth into my flesh and to feast upon me with his lips and tongue. To remind me to not test my mate again.

“You’ve been very naughty Feyre darling.” He growls, sending shivers down my spine and leaving my knees weak.

I knew he would catch up to me. There was no way I could out maneuver Rhys forever. And a part of me is grateful, aching to have him fill the intrinsic bond between us. But another part wants to continue playing the game.

“How so.” I answer breathlessly as one of his hands parts the slit in my dress and runs a calloused palm through the inside my thigh, stopping before my pulsing heat. Refusing to placate my basest desires.

“Don’t play coy love. It doesn’t suit you.” He murmurs into my ear as he trails a finger down the inside of my wing, causing me to arch my back against him. I bite on my lower lip to suffocate the moan straining to come out. He repeats the gesture, curving his finger into the sensitive spot just before the junction of my wings to my back. I can’t stop the moan from escaping my lips this time as Rhysand tightens his hold and removes the silk hiding my lips from his seeking eyes. “That’s it Feyre.” He breathes. “Moan for me.” He does it again, this time pressing his entire hand onto my wing and stretching it out to it’s first joint. He has to tighten his hold to keep me from falling since my knees decided to give out.

“Rhys.” I whimper as he continues his tortuous ministrations, reveling in my pleasure as I try to focus my mind onto the bond. I grope the long cord connecting us, searching for it’s source, anything at this point, to get him to stop before my entire plan ends up in ruins.

It’s as I’m nearing the other side of the bond, towards the masculine essence of my mate that I sense it. The pulsing of another life force, the same power that forged us, calling to me. I sense myself traveling down the bond towards that source until I dip a hand into’s its raw power and the light sucks me in, refusing to take a piece but a whole and before I can object I’m plunged deep into the abyss.

Only resurfacing a second later bathed in the ethereal blue light that I had witnessed at the mating dance a few months before. Rhys sucks in a breath behind me and I take that moment to break out of his hold and to winnow a few yards away. Except this time, I leave a blue cord behind me, and as I gaze down I see that it’s protruding from my navel, an extension of our creation. I gaze up in wonder and gasp at my mate standing before me.

His usually tan skin is alive, his veins running bright blue underneath his skin, his violet eyes now two glowing orbs and his wings crisscrossed with delicate blue veins, pulsing with the power of creation. I can sense his similar awe down the bond, now a wide open channel physically bonding us together. As I stand there memorizing the male before me, a sharp tug of wanting shatters my control and I see Rhysand on the other side, eyes remembering my past treasons, and his hands are now wrapped around the living cord, pulling me to him as I’m dragged across the room before tugged into his hold again.

This time his reproach is much kinder, his canines nip the skin along my neck as he quietly reprimands me, his broad hands encircling my bare waist. We are beyond words at this point, our entire bodies subject to the other’s mind, our true natures just unveiling themselves. I’m practically melting in his arms as his tongue soothes the angry skin left behind by his teeth. I can feel my head lolling back as he wraps me around his waist, his considerable length pressing against my thighs.

He continues to worship my skin when another pulse of the bond as our souls being sucked into the other. Our very beings coalescing unless we release the bond but my mind can’t think through the pleasurable fog and Rhysand releases a groan as another pulse has us scrambling to remember our names. And before I can comprehend anything Rhys winnows us to our bedroom, placing me onto our bed, his hips pressing against mine as we fill up the room with our light.

I take in a gasp of air before his lips crash into mine and his tongue sweeps into the recess of my mouth, eliciting moans from my throat as he does wonders to my tongue. I grind my hips impatiently against him and relish the growl erupting from deep in his chest.

He presses those damn lips against my ear, his breath coming in heavy pants that has my blood boiling with liquid fire. “You have been very naughty Feyre…and I’m going to make you pay…I’m going to make you scream so loud that all of Velaris will know that I’m your _mate_. And that you’re _mine_. All mine until the darkness comes to claim us…and I’m going to fill you with _pleasure…_ ” he breathes as he paws at my breast before ripping open the bodice and ducking to press those _gods-damn_ lips against my breast that has me mewling pathetically underneath him.

And he continues murmuring words onto my skin, ignoring the impatient pulse of the bond as he takes his time pulling apart my skirt underneath him until I’m completely naked. Those calloused hands memorizing my glowing skin as he runs them all over me, taking detail of every inch of me. “My queen.” He whispers onto the skin of my stomach. “My mate.” He murmurs onto my neck as he presses his chest flush with mine and takes my swollen lips in his, sliding his teeth along my bottom lip before pulling it into his mouth and sucking on it softly, his eyes never leaving mine as I pull on the buttons of his trouser and slide them off of him, leaving him naked above me.

He sighs against my mouth as another jab of the bond reminds us that we have to hurry. He sits back up, his legs still straddling my hips as he gazes down at my naked body beneath, his eyes glazed-over as he runs another proprietary hand along my body, around the curve of my waist, the slope of my breast…

“So beautiful.” He whispers, his breath fanning along my skin. “Every inch mesmerizing.” He breathes as he looks back at me. “My mate…my queen…my Feyre.” He sighs as he finally submits to the bond, his canines finding the soft skin connecting my neck to my shoulder, his hands finding my hips and guiding me towards him until one final pulse of the bond has him biting into my shoulder and thrusting so deep into me, I can’t breathe, only focus on the considerable length inside of me as the bond sings with passion, it’s power locking onto my bones and filling me with pleasure beyond comprehension. Rhysand groans above me as he continues to make love to me, his mouth pulling on my own as we each find our pleasure, our climaxes reaching a fever pitch that I don’t think we can recover from as the bond heightens every sense, every nerve, until every breath feels like a shot of adrenaline in our veins.

I can feel the light glowing brighter with every thrust, as if all the raw magic is collecting itself, an immense pressure in my chest as our climaxes grow closer and I’m moaning underneath him as my body tries to cope with his pleasure on top of mine and judging by his frequent groans, the same goes for him. It’s like we’re reaching a point we never thought we could reach and I can sense my body clenching around him, preparing for the shower of pleasure until with a satisfying roar we both climax together, the bond thrumming inside of us bursting free in a wave of light and leaving us breathless in each other’s arms.

For once Rhysand is so exhausted that he can hardly lift his chest from crushing me, his breathing is ragged as he tries to call on his muscles to pull him to the other side of the bed and once he manages to lift his body from mine, we lay there in silence, trying to catch our breaths and recover from the immense pleasure that nearly wrecked us.

I nearly groan from the soreness between my legs as I roll over to face my mate who’s lying on his stomach, his violet eyes back to their usual color. We stay there a few seconds more, just looking each other in the eyes before he extends a corded arm and wraps me to his side, running a tender hand over the side of my waist. After a small beat of silence he speaks;

“What in _hell_ convinced you to do that?” He groans, one hand massaging his forehead.

“I wanted to make our anniversary special.” I breathe, still out of breath.

This is when Rhysand lets out a dark chuckle as he hugs me closer to his side, his eyes glazed from our experience. “Oh you did.” He says as he passes a lazy finger down the slope of my nose. “But you were beautiful Feyre…and you nearly drove me _mad_ back at the throne room. I wanted to slam you onto the nearest surface and remind you why you don’t tease your High Lord.” He growls and I shudder even though my body is more than sated at the moment. We remain there a few seconds more before Rhysand’s finger passes along the column of my throat and finds the diamond choker. “Who gave you this?” He mumbles, his voice thick with the after affects of our pleasure and the ultimate exhaustion.

“Mor thought it would be a fitting anniversary gift.” I answer and Rhysand’s wicked smile nearly has me groaning for him again but he smothers it by taking a deep breath and settling further into the comforter.

“Thank you for the gift my little Cursebreaker…” He murmurs as he presses a tender kiss to my lips. “But let’s not do this again for another century.” I giggle quietly and silently agree. Although beyond pleasurable, its a little too much to take.

His broad hands gently caress my skin, the curve of my waist, the slope of my backside until his hand reaches the flat expanse of my stomach. By this time, I’m happily enjoying his silent touches, eyes closed as I try to fall asleep when his rough voice wakes me.

“What’s this?” I peer down to where his hand is just shy of covering the tiniest spark of light. The same color as the bond. I smile and rub the small area glowing just underneath my navel. “It seems a little piece of our love making has remained.” I tease and Rhysand only chuckles softly as he passes a hand over the skin underneath my navel to the tiny speck of light glowing inside of me.

* * *

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the end is here! Didn’t think it would ever come to foreclosure but here it is. On the bright side I can start working on Feysand Pregnancy!!!!! 
> 
> BTW anyone interested in my next fiction have to like/comment/reblog so I can tag them on the Feysand Pregnancy.

* * *

_Epilogue — 8 months later_

Mor’s screams pierce the air as she practically crushes my hand in her grasp. Her breathing ragged and close to hyperventilating as she squeezes her eyes shut and grunts with pain.

“Come on Mor! Just a little more! A few more pushes!” Nesta screams as she peers in between my Third in Command’s legs.

Mor only responds with another scream as her muscles flex once again, her thighs and arms shaking with the exertion. Meanwhile Elain is trying to cool her off with a wet rag, her gentle hands calm despite being in the midst of a storm.

“Shh Mor. Just a little more and you’ll have your baby in your arms.” My sister soothes as she passes the wet rag over Mor’s burning forehead.

“I…CANT…” Mor screams as she tries to breathe despite the constant pain. “Feyre…” She breathes as she turns those chocolate orbs towards me. “If I don’t…make it…please…help Azriel—“ Her plea is interrupted by another scream as Nesta encourages her to continue pushing.

“I won’t promise that.” I say and Mor tightens her hold on my hand.

“You must!” She nearly growls but it dies off with another grunt.

“I won’t because you’re going to an excellent mother and you’ll live to see your grandchildren turn five hundred.” I chastise as I help her sit up more to make the pushing easier. “Now I need you to _focus_! I want you to push so hard that you’re baby will have no choice but to come to Auntie Nesta.” I challenge.

Mor screams once more before her body gives out and she falls back, panting as she tries to stay conscious, her legs are are a quaking mess and Nesta is trying frantically to soak up all the blood.

“Do you see anything?” I ask and Nesta’s face is pale.

“No.”

* * *

Standing in the foyer of Azriel and Mor’s townhouse, I can safely assume that, should I be in Azriel’s place, the floor would have worn underneath my worried steps.

My spymaster is currently in the process of just that. His hands clasping and unclasping behind his back as he paces anxiously before the classic furniture. His forehead lined with worry as he tries to reach Mor through the bond but apparently she took some classes with Feyre and has effectively shut him out.

Cassian on the other hand, is leaning comfortably on the couch, one ankle crossed over his knee as he cradles his firstborn son in his arms.

“Relax Az, it’s not so bad. After Keane was born, Nesta tried to physically attack me after she claimed that it was all my fault that she had to push an actual baby out of her. So trust me when I say that all will be fine.” Cassian tries to soothe Azriel but I think he only makes it worse.

“But you’ve always known Nesta was strong. But Mor…” Azriel’s voice trails off as another one of Mor’s screams escape the sound block Feyre had set around the room. “Did Nesta scream as much as Mor?” He asks as he runs a hand through his disheveled hair. “I didn’t want her to go through this! I just—“

“Azriel!” I interject as I approach his distressed form. “You need to calm down brother. We’re not little boys…we’re men…and we’ve always known this was a painful process, granted we never assumed we would have to live through it, but here we are. Your _mate_ is giving birth in there. You child is being _born_. This is not a time to be _scared_. This is the time to be strong and be the male that your mate needs to get her through this. My cousin is as strong as she is hardheaded and she will survive this brother. Now I just need you to go in there and be the support she _needs_.”

“Rhysand is right. I was just as worried as you are now and it didn’t help Nesta or the baby.” He murmurs as he gazes down at his infant son. His auburn locks just like his father and his clear blue eyes fierce like his mother. “Sometimes you have to forget about what you feel and be what your woman needs you to be. So go in there and get ready to be a father.”

* * *

“Nesta…” I breathe as I stare at my sister’s pallid features. Her eyes so full of sorrow.

“It’s been three hours, we should be seeing a head by now.” She nearly whispers as Mor struggles to escape the delirium threatening to take her under.

I swallow the bitter tears and grip Mor’s head as she continues to fight between her subconscious and reality.

“Azriel…I need Azriel…” She mumbles to herself and I bite down on my lower lip to keep from crying.

“He’s not here Mor. He’s outside with the boys. He’s waiting for you…and the baby.” I try to comfort as Mor thrashes in my arms, her breathing still ragged.

“I _need_ Azriel! I need my mate!” She yells as she tries to pull her wrists from out my arms. “I want my mate!” She screams and the door to the bedroom swings open as Azriel strides in, shadows circling him as he tries to cage in his emotions.

“Azriel…” I try to warn as he comes closer. “Azriel wait.” And he pauses before reaching Mor’s bedside, his eyes wide with dread. “Azriel she’s not doing well…and the baby…”

“What about my child?” He breathes, his eyes so scared that for a moment I wished that I could be any where but here.

“She’s been pushing and nothing is happening…there might not be a baby…”

“What do mean?” He chokes, his hands fisting at his sides. “But she was pregnant…her belly…” He trails off as he remembers his mate’s swollen belly.

“Sometimes the body will show all the signs of a pregnancy…and there is none.” I say and I wipe the tears from my eyes as my friend’s face falls. “I’m so sorry.” I breathe and Azriel staggers back, his eyes in denial as he stares at his exhausted wife.

“Azriel.” She whispers, her voice hoarse from screaming. “Azriel…” She continues to call in her delirium and I notice Azriel’s face harden.

“No. I refuse to believe that the child my mate and I were so proud to have does not exist…and I _damn_ well won’t allow my wife to wake up and not know why there isn’t a child in her arms.” He growls and comes to his mate’s side, a gentle hand running down her forehead.

“Azriel…” She breathes and for once she receives an answer.

“I’m here my love…I’m here.”

“Azriel.” She whisper as she nuzzles her head into his hands.

“My love I need you to do something for me.” When he doesn’t receive an answer he lowers his head to breathe into her ear. “Mor I know you’re in there and I need you to wake up…I need you to give birth to our child…so I need you to push.” He murmurs, as he cools her forehead with Elain’s wet cloth. Nesta remains by the bedpost, her eyes watching Azriel as he tries to wake his wife. “Please Mor…I need you to do this for me.”

“Azriel.” She breathes and her eyes flutter open. “You’re here.” She whispers and he grips her hands in his own. “I need you to sit up sweetheart, I need you to sit up and push.”

“I can’t…I’m so tired.” She whines and her eyes seem to roll back into her head but Azriel squeezes her hands.

“No Mor! You can’t go to sleep! Not now when we’re about to have our baby! Not now when everything is so close! I need you to wake up!” He encourages and Mor peeks through heavy lids and with a grating groan she manages to sit up with Azriel’s help but she quickly releases a scream as her contractions continue.

“Azriel!” She moans as she clutches the bed sheets, the pain too much.

“Come on Mor! I know you have it in you! I need you to push!” Her mate yells as he squeezes her hands and Mor screams again as she pushes with all her might.

Nesta has resumed her spot in between Mor’s legs and glances up to tell me that she doesn’t see anything yet.

“Harder Mor! I need you to push!”

Another gut wrenching scream and Mor slumps back against the headboard, her panting audible and sweat is dripping down her forehead. But this time another scream joins her.

“I see a head! I see a head! Mor keep pushing!” Nesta screams as she grips Mor’s legs, urging her open them wider.

“You heard that Mor?” Azriel’s voice just a breath. “Our baby! Our baby is right there!”

Mor lets out a cry as she sobs, her body shaking with the pain and the joy as she takes a deep breath before screaming once more and pushing with all her waning strength.

“Harder!” Nesta screams.

“Push harder!”

“A little more!”

“One more!”

“Just one more push!”

That’s when we hear the baby’s cry and we all slump onto the nearest surface. Mor falls back onto her headboard, her breathing finally slowing to a heavy rhythm as she tries to conserve strength. Azriel finally leaves his mate’s arms to come around Nesta and peer at the child in her hands. I can’t see from behind Mor’s legs but Azriel takes a sharp intake of breath as he lifts his child in the air and whispers.

“It’s a girl.”

* * *

“It’s a girl.” He breathes as he takes his child from Nesta’s bloody hands and wraps her in the softest fleece. His eyes shining with tears as he cradles his daughter in his arms.

“Let me see.” Mor croaks, her hair plastered to her forehead, her body limp with exhaustion but she still extends her shaking arms and accepts her child from Azriel’s arms. She lets out a sob at the sight of her child and I’m crying as well. Tears of joy for the family just brought into the world.

“My baby.” Mor breathes, her finger tracing the tiny face with Azriel’s dark hair. “She’s so beautiful.” She sobs as the baby continues to cry, her face contorted in fury at having been roughly woken up. “Shh my love.” She whispers as she tucks her baby to her breast and watches as she takes hold. The baby’s cries die out as she feeds, her tiny hand wrapping into a fist.

“What will you call her.” I whisper, frightened to destroy the beautiful moment between mother and child. Mor looks up at me and then her husband.

“Xenia…I want to call her Xenia…Because she is a welcome joy.” She murmurs as she continues to gaze in awe at her child.

Nesta returns to the room to peel away the bloody sheets before allowing Cassian and Rhysand to enter. After such a terrifying ordeal, Nesta practically snatches Keane from Cassian’s arms and she softly bounces him in her arms as she leans over to look at Xenia.

“She’s beautiful Mor.” She praises as Azriel gazes proudly down at his wife and child.

“She will be well loved by all of us.” Elain adds and I know she just saw a vision. Her eyes glazed as she looks down at the baby.

By now Xenia has finished feeding and her tiny mouth silently opens up to an adorable O as she yawns and falls asleep in her mother’s arms, her father watching from behind, tears streaming down his face.

I motion to Rhys and signal for us to leave. After an exhausting night, I want the couple to have a few hours to rest and enjoy their baby.

“Congratulations brother. I know you will make a wonderful father.” Rhysand offers as he grabs my arm and winnows us home.

I start to undress to take a shower before my mate encircles a huge arm around my waist.

“I’m happy for Mor and Azriel.” He whispers as he holds my back to his chest.

“So am I.” I agree as I allow him to hold me. Content to spend forever this way.

“But tonight…”

“Yes.” I whisper, aware that my mate is trying to confide in me.

“Tonight made me realize how much I want to start a family of my own.” He breathes and I twist in his arms to read his face. Those violet eyes open and sincere. “I want you to be the mother of my children Feyre.”

I breath deeply and kiss him tenderly, his warm lips so familiar and perfect. “I would be honored.” I whisper against his lips as he envelopes my lips in his own.

“As am I.” He responds as we lose ourselves to the passions of the night and the hope for tomorrow. For the spark of light still glowing inside me and begging for a future. A future of endless nights full of love and tenderness, of majestic stars that light up the skies. For a future with endless possibilities that all begin with tomorrow.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hope you liked the Epilogue! I thought it was a nice bonus for all my Moriel shippers and just to let you know Keane means tall and handsome in Celtic and Xenia means welcome so “welcome joy” for Mor. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed the ride as much as I did and comment/like/repost to be tagged in my next fiction!


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